The Lucky Ones
by Ricechex
Summary: Post Angel Season 5: Angel & Spike, trying to stay out of the Senior Partners' vision, journey to Cleveland to help Faith with the second Hellmouth. Slash AS.
1. Prologue: Keeping Off The Radar

**Prologue**

**Keeping Off The Radar**

"I can't believe I'm stuck here with you."

The tall, dark haired figure of Angel stood, leaning against a brick wall. He was looking out of an alley into the busy street teeming with people rushing about in the early sunset. He wore a ripped black t-shirt and dirty black slacks with scuffed shoes. His hair was more than untidy; it was a nuclear disaster area. His face was bruised and cut open, making him look as though he had just walked out of a gang fight. He sighed, wincing and grabbing his ribs, knowing that at least two of them were broken. No time for that now though. He had a mission.

"Yeah peaches, well, I'm not exactly thrilled to be in your company all the time." He looked behind him to see Spike taking one last drag from a cigarette before tossing it behind him and stepping up to his side. His leather duster was gone, his own black t-shirt also ripped and caked with dry blood. His jeans had a few holes in them and his boots looked as though someone had taken a flamethrower to them. His left hand was wrapped in a long strip of Gunn's t-shirt – he had been crazy enough to throw his hand in the way of a wooden stake that had been aimed for Angel's heart. Angel stared at Spike, his expression softening a bit as he remembered that he wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for the blonde vamp beside him.

"We really have to go in there, don't we?" Spike asked, staring across the street with a look of dread.

"Yeah," Angel said softly, putting his hands on his hips.

"Can't we just kill a few people to get what we want?" Spike complained. Angel glared at him, and he threw his hands up defensively. "I'm only suggesting, mate."

"We have to, Spike," Angel said, his gaze returning to the building across the street. "There is no way around it.

"Well, guess we better get it over with then," Spike sighed. "Ready?"

"Ready," Angel whispered.

The two stepped out of the alley and walked across the street, up the walkway, and through the large glass doors that read: SAKS FIFTH AVENUE.

"God, I don't know why we're in this place," Spike mumbled as they made their way through the men's section. Angel was quickly rifling through shirts, looking for something that would catch his eye. "I mean honestly, Angel, why are we in the most expensive store in the whole bloody mall?"

"Spike, do me a big favor and shut up, just for a moment." Spike glared at Angel but stayed silent. He took to looking around the store, glaring at other shoppers who took the time to gawk at his shabby clothing and beaten look. He found a mirror nearby and amused himself by standing in front of it and watching the people behind him as they shopped. Occasionally he'd change his face and leer at someone before turning and changing back. After a few minutes he found he was again totally bored and sauntered back to Angel's side.

"I'm bored, ya poofter."

"Spike, so help me, I am trying to find some clothes," Angel growled, pulling out a navy blue dress shirt and examining the size. "Why don't you try to find some too?"

"Because this is not my kind of shop," Spike hissed. An elderly couple glanced over cautiously, as if afraid of them. "I hate these clothes, Angel!"

"Spike, calm down," Angel murmured, still looking through the shirts. He had replaced the navy blue on the rack and was again searching.

"I will not calm down!" Spike shouted, attracting the attention of the security guards. The other shoppers had edged away from the quarreling vampires and the sales associates were looking at them with trepidation. Angel glowered at Spike and turned to see the security guards coming towards them slowly, hands resting on their holsters.

"Spike, I'm not getting arrested because you wanna act like a child," Angel snarled. Looking at the guards creeping closer to them, he smiled slightly. "Is there a problem gentlemen?"

"Why don't we all take a walk," the first security guard said. He was overweight, middle aged, and balding. Spike grinned at him, strolling up to him casually.

"A walk, eh?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hands in the air!" He glanced at the second guard – the cliché younger, better looking, trigger happy partner – who had his gun out and aimed at Spike's chest. Spike merely laughed.

"Are you gonna shoot me for putting my hands in my pockets?" he asked the youth. The young man stood firm and kept his aim.

"I said, hands in the air," he stated again. Spike looked back at Angel who was still glowering at him.

"Should I do it, peaches?" he asked, batting his eyelashes. Angel rolled his eyes.

"Spike, do me a favor and take a nice long walk tomorrow around noon. I have a few things to do that require you out of the house."

"Do you hear how he talks to me?" Spike asked the guards, who now both had their guns out and trained on him. "I really don't know why I put up with it. I mean, honestly, you two married?" The guards looked at each other for a moment, confused, before turning back to Spike. "No, not to each other of course!" Spike cried, pulling his hands out of his pockets. "I don't expect the rest of the world to have what he and I have!"

"What?" Spike beamed back at Angel who looked furious. "What the hell do we have?" Angel crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

"See," Spike said to the guards, his eyes still on Angel. "See what I mean about how he talks to me? I've been with him, helped him fight his battles, and where does it get me?" Spike took a few steps towards Angel, smiling at Angel's look of outright loathing. "Come on, peaches, what d'you say we get out of this store, go take a walk, cool off before we go home and heat it up again?"

Angel stared into Spike's eyes, which were now just a few inches away from his own. "I'm going to kill you later," he breathed, pushing past Spike and walking towards the Mall entrance. The guards had lowered their weapons and watched, bewildered, as Spike waved and followed Angel, bouncing along merrily.

He caught up with Angel near The Gap's storefront. "Angel, you could at least thank me for getting us out of that."

"Go to hell, Spike," Angel rumbled, shuffling into the store. Spike followed him.

"Angel, in case you haven't noticed, we are in hell," Spike whispered. "All this bright light, the colors everywhere, and those damn happy people – "

"I meant a real hell, Spike," Angel told him. "The kind where you rot and burn for all eternity."

"I'm hurt that you'd say that," Spike said mockingly. "After all the help I've given you – "

"I never asked for your help," Angel spat, pulling out a few pairs of pants. "I never asked for you to be around in the first place." Angel turned on his heel and strode away purposefully. Spike stalked after him and grabbed his arm, whirling him around.

"Where are you going? The cash registers and exit are the other way."

"I'm going where you can't follow me," Angel said, pulling his arm free and walking into the changing room. Spike frowned.

A few seconds later, Angel reappeared. "So do they all fit?" Spike asked, leaning against the wall. He was looking at the other shoppers in a bored fashion. Angel ignored him, looking around the store. "Angel?"

"I… I don't know."

"Well you should, ya sod – "

"The… changing rooms were all locked, I couldn't get in. I need someone to unlock them." Spike started laughing.

"This is too good," he chuckled before walking off. Angel tracked down an associate and ducked back into the changing rooms.

* * *

Angel walked out of The Gap twenty minutes later with several bags of new clothing. He glanced around for Spike, inhaling deeply to find his scent. He picked it up and followed it into the food court. He caught sight of Spike in line at one of the fast food places and stalked over to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked angrily.

"Giving you some space," Spike said as he eyed the menu. "You know, I'm almost in the mood for something to eat." He looked over his shoulder at Angel. "Something real, something... greasy. I was thinking about a slice of pizza. Pepperoni, sausage, ham, bacon, all of it. Something I can really… sink my teeth into."

"Spike, I'm sure we can find some food somewhere else. Right now, we need clothes."

"I see you've already got some," Spike nodded to the bags in Angel's hands. Angel looked down at them.

"Yeah, never know when I'll have the opportunity to catch a great sale like that again."

"In about another five weeks," Spike told him as he regarded the menu again. "Ryan told me."

"Who's Ryan?" Angel asked, realizing he sounded incredibly jealous. Spike smiled lazily.

"Cashier – one that rung me up," Spike said. He lifted his left hand and Angel noticed for the first time that Spike had several Gap bags of his own. He laughed quietly for a moment. Spike shrugged. "Not really my style, but if it's what I can get, I'll take it."

"Let's go," Angel said, tugging on Spike's elbow. "Please?" Spike conceded and stepped out of the line.

"Fine, but you owe me something to eat," he said. Angel nodded.

"I think I know a place."

* * *

"Still going to kill me?"

Angel looked at Spike, who was dressed in a pair of green and blue plaid lounge pants. He was shirtless, reclining on a cot with white sheets and one pillow on it. Angel shook his head.

"Suppose I can let you live for now," he yawned, covering his mouth. He stretched his legs, looking at the burgundy sleep pants he had on. He too was shirtless, laying on his back on a small cot much like the one Spike had. He too had white sheets, one pillow. It was a long way from the lap of luxury he had become accustomed to with Wolfram & Hart. But it was a safe place to sleep, and that was really all he cared about right then. He turned his head and looked at Spike. "What's going through your head?"

"God," Spike rolled his eyes. "What isn't? I mean, what do we do now? Where do we go? Who do we go to? It's nice of Faith to help us while we need a place to stay, but to be honest, I don't want to stay in her city forever. Not even sure how we ended up in Cleveland. But here we are, and now we have to make the best of it. How about you?" Spike rolled onto his stomach and stared across the room to Angel. "What's going on in your mind?"

"Honestly? Buffy," he said, looking up to the ceiling. "I want so badly to go to Italy, see her again, hold her, tell her how I feel. I want her to know what I did, what _we_ did, to Wolfram & Hart. I want to – "

"To feel like it had a purpose," Spike chimed in. "To feel like it meant something. To know that you gave up all that easy living and luxury for a reason. I know how you feel mate," Spike said sympathetically. "I know just how you feel."

"But I can't go to her," Angel said sadly. "I can't even leave the area right now. Neither of us can. For now, we should just lay low, try to stay off the radar and away from the senior partners. Faith and Robin are working on a few things we can probably get involved in, as long as it's minimal exposure." Spike sighed.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" Spike asked sleepily. "We're really fighting the good fight?"

"Course we are," Angel yawned, closing his eyes. "Let's get some sleep." He lay quietly for a few hours, unable to sleep. Images of the final fight flashed through his mind. Images of Ilyria, fighting bravely and methodically. Gunn as he lay dying, still shooting his crossbow and taking out any demons he could. Spike… Spike stepping up and fighting with him, _for_ him. It made no sense.

Angel rolled onto his side and stared across the room at Spike, who was drooling slightly on the pillow. He smiled faintly before closing his eyes again and drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter One: Fallen Angels

_Fallen, broken  
__Simply dissolved into an incomplete thought  
__An empty shell cracked and disfigured  
__With no remorse I have been blinded by the darkness  
__With no distain, I have received my punishment  
__And with no haste, I await them  
__My eyes don't see the obvious  
__There's way too far to go  
__Forget about the rest of me  
__There's nothing left to know  
__I see fallen angels  
__When I try to go to sleep  
__And they're always watching  
__I see fallen angels  
__As I'm walking in the street  
__Silently preparing  
__What they'll do to me  
__You see I'm kind of paranoid  
__My luck, it seems to have run out  
__So I will point the finger now  
__Beyond a shadow of a doubt  
__I see fallen angels  
__When I try to go to sleep  
__And they're always watching  
__I see fallen angels  
__As I'm walking in the street  
__Silently preparing  
__What they'll do to me  
__I see fallen angels  
__When I try to go to sleep  
__And they're always watching  
__I see fallen angels  
__As I'm walking in the street  
__Silently preparing  
__I see fallen angels (I see fallen angels)  
__I see fallen angels  
__When I try to go to sleep (I see fallen angels)  
__I see fallen angels (I see fallen angels)  
__As I'm walking in the street (I see fallen angels)  
__Silently preparing  
__What they'll do to me_

_**"Fallen Angels"  
Ra**_

* * *

**Chapter One  
****Fallen Angels**

"No - NO! NOOOO!"

"Angel, wake up! Angel! Bastard, wake UP!"

Angel jumped out of bed, his vamp face on and snarling as he clawed at his attacker, tearing and scratching like an animal...

"Angel, ya git, IT'S ME!"

Angel felt himself slam into a wall, knocking his face back to normal and causing him to cough a few times. He squinted at the person holding him against the wall.

"Spike?"

"Damn right," the blonde vampire said, easing his hold on Angel's arms. "You were shoutin' – screaming all sorts o' things. Never heard you so spooked. You all right then?"

Angel took a few deep breaths, more to calm himself than anything. He nodded gently and Spike let go of him. "Gave me a right scare, you did," he muttered, still standing in front of Angel. "What in bloody hell were you dreaming?"

"You really don't wanna know," Angel whispered, wiping his face. He was sweating profusely, something he was not at all accustomed to doing. Spike frowned a bit.

"If I asked you what you were seeing, I really _do_ want to know," he said calmly, running a hand through his hair. "I mean that," he added, catching Angel's gaze. Angel only nodded again before stepping past him and sitting back on his cot. Spike merely watched him, staring after him as though waiting for him to speak. Angel sat silently on his bed, his eyes fixed on the floor. Spike waited for a few minutes before stalking back to his own cot.

"It was horrible." Spike turned as Angel looked up at him. His brown eyes were filled with tears. "I kept seeing everyone – mostly the final fight. But there were flashes of Fred, Wesley, and Cordy, and Doyle…" He swallowed. "All the people I've lost along the way. In Los Angeles. Lorne, Gunn… people I've let down… I feel like it's all my fault that so many of them are dead… I came into their lives and everything went down hill." Angel felt his tears falling down his cheeks. "Even you, and Drusilla, and Darla – "

"Darla was a bitch, and you know that," Spike said calmly. He strode to Angel's cot and sat down next to him. "She loved hurting us more than anything else. And nothing you ever say about her will make me think otherwise. Dru was… well, she was different, we both know that. She was definitely crazy."

"Because of me," Angel sighed. "I did that to her."

"Angelus did that – you're different," Spike said. "Doesn't make it any better or any worse. I'm just saying; Angelus and you are truly two different people."

"But I still… I still remember…"

"And you always will," Spike agreed. "Just like I'll always remember everything I did. 'S not like I was a saint, you know."

"I want… I want you…"

"What?"

"I want you to know… I'm sorry. For everything. Everything I did to you, to Drusilla, from the moment I met you until now. I'm sorry."

Spike frowned. He had never heard his grand sire apologize for things done as Angelus. At least, not things that had been directed towards Drusilla or himself. He shifted slightly on the cot, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Mate, you couldn't have done things any different – why apologize for things that were out of your control?" Angel buried his face in his hands, shaking somewhat. Spike gently put a hand on his back, patting him carefully. "Hey, Angel, come on, snap out of it. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"I have everything to be ashamed of," he moaned. "I swore to help the helpless, be the world's 'Dark Avenger' and give people hope. I told myself that none of my friends would have to worry, that they would be safe with me…"

"Angel – " Spike started, but before he could continue, Angel began sobbing outright. Spike had never seen this much emotion from Angel ever, and felt more uncomfortable than before. "Hey, hey," he whispered, trying to get Angel's attention, to no avail. He grabbed Angel's hands and pried them away from his face. The older vampire looked at him, his face red and tearstained.

"I can't do this, Spike."

"Shut up and go to sleep," Spike said irritably. He stood up, and pushed Angel back onto the bed. Grabbing his legs, he swung Angel completely onto the cot and pulled the sheets up to his chest.

"I can't, Spike – "

"Didn't I say go to sleep?" Spike asked, kneeling next to Angel. "You have to get through this, because if you don't, then they win. Wolfram & Hart, the senior partners, even the bloody Powers That Be who seem to love kickin' us when we're down. Besides," he smiled, "Who the hell else could I annoy for the rest of… whatever we got now?" Angel nodded meekly and closed his eyes. Spike stayed where he was for a moment, watching Angel intently. He wondered why Angel had suddenly opened up to him – become so vulnerable, so weak – something he had never done before, in front of anyone, Spike was sure of that.

Finally, after wrenching his eyes away from Angel's face, he clambered onto his own cot and pulled the sheets up.

* * *

"Rise and shine, boys!"

Spike was greeted with Faith's bright eyes, which were looking down at him in their typical sultry manner.

"Morning to you too," Spike muttered, rolling over.

"Actually, it's more like afternoon," Faith told him, yanking the covers off him. He rolled over and glared at her.

"Come on peaches, time to get up," he called across the room. He glanced to where Angel was sleeping in time to catch the very rude hand gesture Angel gave them both.

"Ooo, someone's grouchy today," Faith teased. She balled up Spike's sheets and threw them onto Angel's head.

"Go awaif Faif," he mumbled through his pillow and blankets. She laughed.

"Not a chance, Angel. Time for you two to earn your keep."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Spike yawned. "What keep?"

"In exchange for living quarters, as well as food, you two are gonna help me." She strolled over to Angel's bed and yanked all the sheets off him before grabbing the cot and flipping it upside down, sending Angel sprawling to the concrete floor.

"Faith!" he raged, jumping up and pushing his face in hers. She kept smiling.

"Angel," she said innocently. "Pleasant dreams?" He glared at her. "Or were you and Spike just being friendly?" Angel shoved her back, making her stumble onto the floor.

"Fuck you," he growled, pushing past her towards the stairs.

Faith glared at him as he passed her, grabbing a towel from one of the utility racks as he walked up the steps to the main area of the house. "What the hell is his problem?" Faith asked Spike, who offered her a hand up. She accepted, dusting herself off as the two of them walked after Angel.

"Bad dreams," Spike told her, grabbing a towel himself. "Had to throw him into the wall to get him to snap out of 'em."

"I was wondering what all the noise was down here. Bet you liked manhandling him," she teased. The blonde vampire glowered at her as she chuckled. "Come on Spike, are you honestly saying that you've never even _thought_ about it? About how it would be to be with _him_?"

"Shut-up Faith – Angel and I are… friends, sort of… so don't go gettin' all excited about the idea I _know_ is buzzin' around in your head."

Faith gave him an angelic look. "What? What thought? I have no idea what you're talking about." Spike looked at her, disbelief written all over him.

"Nice try, but I know you better than you'd like, pet," he told her. The two had walked into a small kitchen that looked as though it should have belonged to a tiny old grandmother rather than to Faith and Wood. The pots and pan, utensils, everything looked as though it had been around since the Second World War – which, Spike thought, it probably had. He watched as she reached up for a large box of cereal, opening and closing several cabinets with peeling and faded paint before finally sitting down with a large bowl of some ultra-healthy whole grain and fruit guaranteed to help lose weight cereal that he knew he could _never_ eat, even if he ever ended up becoming human again.

_Shanshu_…

Now that he had let it creep into his mind, the word raced through his brain. He thought about what it would be like, becoming human again after all these years as a vampire. All these years of torture and mayhem, of killing. Years of hiding from the sunlight, shrinking back at the sight of a cross or feeling the burn of holy water. Years of hiding from everything…

"Spike!"

"It was on the telly!" he burst out, staring at Faith, who it seemed was now trying to laugh and stop choking on the spoon she had almost swallowed at his outburst.

"What – " cough, "what are – " She was still choking, still laughing, but at least now she had gotten the spoon out of her mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"I dunno!" he said defensively. "You yelled at me, I panicked!" Faith kept grinning as her laughter subsided, picking the spoon back up off of the table and resuming her breakfast.

"I was asking what you two had planned now that you're 'on the lam' as it were."

"Oh," Spike perked up. "Ah, not real sure, actually. Got anything that needs dusting? And I don't mean housecleaning, love," he told her as she eyed the cabinet tops. "I'm thinking more along the demon variety."

"Plenty," she told him. "Another Hellmouth – another round of big bads to get rid of." Spike nodded, then turned his attention to the figure walking into the kitchen.

"Morning, Wood," Spike said as amicably as possible. Wood nodded in his general direction, which Spike considered to be a wild improvement over the last time they were in such close quarters. The kitchen fell quiet except for the sounds of Wood as he prepared a cup of coffee. He wore a long white tank top and a pair of black silk sleeping pants. He still had his mustache and goatee, but he had let his hair grow slightly – though still very short, it was at least noticeable now. Spike watched as Wood finished making his coffee and turned to go back out of the kitchen. The place remained silent until a few moments later, when Spike heard voices. Guessing that Angel was now out of the shower, he stood up.

"I'm gonna go get pretty for ya," he told Faith with a wink. She grinned mischievously.

"Are you sure it's not for Angel?" she asked. He scowled at her but said nothing, walking out of the kitchen and into the small open area of the hallways. He peeked into a large, open room, which he took to be the living room. There was indeed a television, as well as a few chairs and a couch, along with small tables and lamps. Wood was sipping his coffee, nodding as he listened to someone.

" – I just… When I sleep, even when I'm awake sometimes… I keep seeing all these… people…" Spike recognized the voice as Angel's. He pressed in closer to the wall to hear better. "They're always dead. Sometimes, I'm the one that killed them… other times, I know I didn't put my hand to them, but I feel like I'm still the reason they're dead."

"Because you were the one in charge of the attack on Wolfram & Hart?" Wood asked.

"No – because I was the one in charge of everything," Angel told him. Spike felt his heart breaking for Angel – those dreams were really tearing him up. He was about to walk away to take his shower when he heard something that caught his attention. "And sometimes – sometimes I see Spike there too."

"Spike?" Wood asked, sounding slightly confused. "Why do you see Spike?"

"Because I'm the real reason he's a vampire," Angel said. "I'm the one who turned Drusilla, drove her insane. And her insanity prompted her to pick Spike – "

"Wait just a bloody minute!" Spike burst in, frowning at Angel. "Are you saying Dru wouldn't have turned me if she were sane?"

"Spike, what the hell are you doing listening to a private conversation?" Angel asked, furious. Spike smirked.

"Well, I _was_ feelin' sorry for ya, 'til you went and said that! Dru and I were – "

"Meant for each other, she was your destiny, your love was forever, I know all that!" Angel shouted, crossing his arms across the black tank top he was now wearing. Loose fitting blue jeans that seemed to bell out at the bottom completed his outfit. Spike looked at his feet.

"Are… are you wearing women's pants?" he asked, his smirk broadening into a grin. Angel stared at him, confused.

"What?"

"Your jeans – they look like Buffy's, the way they kinda… flare out at the bottom." Angel looked down, then back at Spike.

"No, they're not women's jeans, they're just… boot cut," he muttered. "Just, leave me alone, Spike."

"Oh no, Angel, you and I – we got a conversation to have."

Wood stood back, watching the two vampires intently. "You know you two are better than morning television," he said flatly. Angel continued staring at Spike, who crossed his arms as well, mimicking Angel's stance.

"I can stand here just as long as you can, Halo Boy," Spike told him, his eyes never leaving Angel's.

"Halo Boy?" Angel asked him. "Wow, you're really losing your edge in your old age, aren't ya?" Spike kept staring. "Or maybe this is part of you having your soul – you start to lose all the witty comebacks and put downs you used to have. Man, that must be hell for you."

"Sod off, Angel," Spike said, turning and walking back through the door. He rounded the corner and stalked towards the bathroom, seething. He knew that he had voluntarily let Angel win that round – but there would be plenty more that he knew he could win. Besides, if Angel didn't win occasionally, he'd start brooding more, and there was only so much Spike could put up with.

Quickly he turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as he disrobed. He turned to the large bathroom mirror, staring into it and seeing only the wall behind him, and the towel rack with tons of sterile white towels – the kind you'd see in a hotel. He sighed.

"God, I hate that man," he whispered, then grinned as he stepped into the water.

* * *

Angel sat in the kitchen, reading the newspaper. To his left, a steaming coffee mug sat filled with pig's blood. He absentmindedly picked it up and sipped at it, still scanning the paper. He was alone in the room. Faith and Wood had mentioned something about going to the grocery store and the butcher; Spike had stalked back into the basement after his shower and had not come out yet. Which, truth be told, suited Angel just fine. He cared about Spike, to be certain – but it didn't mean he actually liked the guy that much.

And so he sat, feeling oddly at peace for the time being – he felt almost normal. Almost like he was human again. The thought that he could still act as though he were any ordinary guy gave him comfort. He may have a demon inside of him, but he was still the one in control.

"That's what you think," a voice whispered. Angel frowned, looking to each side of him. Was he imagining that voice? It sounded familiar… very familiar.

"You're not human, Angel," it whispered again. He could tell it was female – but where was it coming from? "You never will be either. You'll be a demon forever."

Angel stood up, setting his coffee mug down and walking to the kitchen entrance. He poked his head out into the hallway, looking around to see if someone was just messing with his mind. But no one was there. He turned back into the room – he was still completely alone.

"You'll kill them all," the voice came again, this time not as soft. Angel, still frowning, went back to the table. "Just like you killed me."

"Who are you?" he demanded gruffly, his hands going to his hips.

Laughter trickled out of the air and flowed down his spine like water, causing him to shiver slightly. "You don't recognize me?" it asked, sounding hurt. "I'm the woman you love," it told him.

"Buffy?" his eyes widened as he looked around frantically. "Buffy, where are you?"

"Not Buffy," it sang, mockingly. "I can't believe you even said that." The voice sounded stronger, as though the person speaking were now directly behind Angel. He turned his head slowly, afraid of what he'd see.

"Cordy," he breathed. A ghostly vision of Cordelia Chase stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at him expectantly.

"Well, yeah," it said, smiling. "Took ya long enough, huh?" Angel reached out to touch her – his fingers slipped right through her.

"Cordy, I've missed you," he whispered, feeling a few hot tears roll down his cheeks. Her smile turned sad. "I've seen you so many times in my dreams – I'm so sorry I lost you," he cried.

"Angel, don't cry," she told him, reaching out to him. Her hand passed through him, and he bit his lip to keep more tears back.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Cordy," he choked out, rubbing his eyes furiously.

"Shhh," she chided. "Angel, you're just doing what you're meant to do," she whispered, taking a step closer to him. He looked down at the cracked linoleum floor. "You're being that which is your true nature. You're being a demon." He looked up at her now, horror struck.

"No," he pleaded, their faces inches apart. "No, I'm not – please – "

"Angel, you let me die – you let Fred die – And Wesley, and Gunn – "

"No," Angel sobbed, tears falling down his cheeks. "Please, stop…"

"And of course, you let Doyle die too," she sighed, ignoring him. "You swore to help everyone, but you were so concerned with everyone else that you never really tried to help the people who mattered most to you – you never really tried to save any of us," she told him as he bawled, helpless. "And that's just as bad as killing us yourself."

"Cordy," he whimpered. "Please, Cordy, why… why are you doing this?"

Cordelia looked at him sternly. "Because you need to know, Angel. You need to know how useless you were, to all of us. Even to Buffy, since you were so worried about her before."

"Leave her out of this," Angel said, his anger flaring slightly. Cordelia grinned.

"So useless that she sent you away before her final fight against the First. She knew she'd never need that second front. But she didn't want you around to help, and she knew that was the only way to get you to leave."

"Shut up," Angel growled, his anger rising. Through his tears he glared at the ghost, wishing he could stop her from saying anything more.

"She wanted you gone so she could crawl into Spike's arms that night," Cordelia taunted. "Wanted you gone so she could have a _real_ champion."

"SHUT UP!" Angel shouted, storming through her and out of the room. He had just gotten through the entrance to the kitchen when he ran straight into Spike. The two collapsed onto the floor, tangled with one another.

"Bloody hell Angel!" Spike shouted, looking slightly flush. "What happened?"

"God, Spike, you're head," Angel said, sitting up as he grabbed the side of his. Spike's eyes went wide as he began grabbing and feeling around his head.

"Oh God, am I OK? What happened to it? What did you do?"

"Thanks for the concern, I'm fine after _your head_ crashed into _mine_," Angel told him sarcastically. Spike nodded.

"Oh, good, as long as _I'm_ still pretty," he said. He sat up, his legs still tangled with Angel's. "What was going on Angel?" Angel leaned back, his hands propping him up. He stared at Spike. "I came up, heard you talkin' to someone, so I went to the living room. Figured you wouldn't like it much if I was listenin' in again," he said sheepishly. "Then I hear you gettin' angry, and shoutin', and soon as I rush to the room, you come out all hot an' bothered, not even watching where you're going," he said, sounding very concerned. Angel shook his head.

"I saw Cordy," he whispered, looking down at their legs. He noticed for the first time that Spike was wearing khakis, and a light blue t-shirt that fit very snuggly. He smiled inwardly – Spike looked pretty nice when he wasn't going for the British punk style he seemed so infatuated with.

"And I take it she wasn't here to tell you, 'Great job back in L. A.' huh?" Angel shook his head, looking back up at Spike. He noticed that Spike had left his hair un-gelled – the natural waves and curls seemed to spiral everywhere, but on Spike it looked good. Angel had never really been able to do much with his hair – it always tended to stick up in the front, so he simply styled it that way. Spike snorted slightly. "Figures. Not that I think it was actually Cordelia, mind," he said, pushing back and pulling his legs carefully out from Angel's. He stood slowly, stretching before offering a hand to Angel. "Come on mate," he said sympathetically. Angel accepted his help.

"They're everywhere, Spike," Angel said, walking into the living room, the blonde vampire following him closely. "All these people I care about, all these people I lost along the way." The two sat down on one of the overstuffed and refinished couches. The upholstery was a wretched green and brown weave pattern, one Angel had seen back in the fifties. "All these fallen angels."

"Let's go kill something," Spike suggested. Angel, who was hunched over his legs, looked back at Spike as he reclined, his head leaning back on the top of the couch. "It's been weeks since the final fight we had and I am just itching for a good bit o' violence." Spike shot forward, his posture now hunched over his legs, elbows resting on his knees like Angel. "What d'ya say?" Angel smiled.

"I say, let's go to work."


	3. Chapter Two: Undone

_I can see it in your eyes you're hurting  
But pain is part of learning who you are  
All these truths can sometimes be deceiving  
When your whole world comes crashing to the ground  
Tell me everything you need now anything at all  
And I will be the one who's waiting anytime you fall  
Yeah, when you come undone  
When you come undone  
You know I can't be like everybody  
Cause I can't tell you what you want to hear  
I don't know if I can make it better  
All I know is I will be around  
Tell me everything you need now anything at all  
And I will be the one who's waiting anytime you fall  
Yeah, when you come undone  
When you come undone  
When all your plans are made out lying on the floor  
And all your dreams are turning into nothing more  
When all your hope has left you know you're not alone  
Just hold on  
Hold on  
Tell me everything you need now anything at all  
And I will be the one who's waiting anytime you fall  
Yeah, when you come undone  
When you come undone_

"**_Undone"  
_**_**Lifehouse**_

* * *

**Chapter Two  
****Undone**

"I hate you."

"Oh, get over yourself," Spike huffed as he and Angel walked through the dark sewers in search of a single Pargo demon they had found. Spike was stalking along as quietly as he could, sniffing the air every few seconds to make sure he had not lost the scent of the creature amongst the multitude of other odors that came along with these cesspits. Angel was limping behind him, blood trailing down his left leg as he stumbled along.

"Spike, I'm still bleeding over here," Angel hissed, grabbing his grand child's shoulder. Spike jerked loose easily and turned to frown at Angel.

"And what do you want me to do about it?" he asked. "The Pargo's gettin' away – if we don't keep after it now, we'll lose it for good – our trackin's only so good in this filth, you know that!"

"So go after it yourself," Angel said angrily, shoving Spike away one handed. Spike stepped back a little, staring in disbelief at Angel's mood.

"You know, if it weren't for the fact that it's a complete impossibility, I'd say you were pregnant, the way your moods shift."

"Shut up, Spike."

"Sod off, Angel."

Angel leaned back against the stone and concrete wall, sliding down until he was sitting. He looked at his leg – there was a gash at least four inches long and easily three inches deep. Blood was soaked into the jeans, which were now ruined beyond repair.

"Why did I agree to this?" Angel asked. Spike scoffed.

"Because you were going all Sixth Sense on me, walkin' 'round talkin' 'bout _you see dead people_. So don't get in a snit with me, I ain't the one what's haunted." Spike sighed harshly and walked to Angel, crouching down next to him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Angel looked up at him, a mixture of anger and confusion in his eyes. "I just… I shouldn't have said that. I know it's not easy, dealing with all that's happened. Just don't take out your frustrations on me, mate."

Angel nodded. "You just make me so… crazy at times," he said through gritted teeth, looking back at his wound. The bleeding was slowing – within the next twelve hours it would be healed, without any scarring, no medication. One of the fringe benefits to being a vampire. "I want to wring your neck most of the time," he looked back at Spike. "But I know, every time you annoy me it's just because you want a – Pargo demon!"

Spike looked back in time to get hit with a large, red fist. He fell over onto Angel's lap, bringing forth howls of pain from the elder vampire. Quickly, Spike rolled out of the way and retaliated with several well placed blows to the Pargo's head and abdomen. Angel stood up, leaning heavily against the wall, looking frantically for something – anything – that he could use to help Spike. He limped carefully, watching Spike as he fought, trying to find something.

"Little help would be nice, Angel!" Spike shouted before he was thrown into the opposite wall face first. He fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering small drops of blood.

"Maybe you shouldn't have fallen on me, Spike!" Angel roared as the Pargo turned to him, swinging awkwardly while Angel dodged the punches.

"You could have been faster about bloody well warnin' me it was there!" Spike labored, now up on his hands and knees. He continued pushing himself up when his hands brushed against something – he looked to his right, at the base of the wall. There were a few large, loose stones.

"Spike!" Angel choked out, as the Pargo was now holding him off the floor and against the wall by his throat. He was trying to break free when a loud, dull _thud_ resounded in the tunnel. The Pargo cocked its head to the side, its grip slackening a bit. Another _thud_ sounded, and the Pargo dropped Angel to the ground.

"Yeah, that's right; ya can't keep a good vamp down!" Spike taunted, throwing another stone into the demon's face. The stone hit and bounced off, bringing a shriek of rage from the Pargo. It charged Spike, who stepped out of the way at the last second and kicked at the demon's back, slamming it hard into the wall. It slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"Quick, Spike," Angel grunted, Propping himself on his hands. "Drown him, it's the only way – "

"I know, I know," Spike dismissed Angel with a quick wave of his hand. He grabbed the Pargo and brought it to the small stream of water that ran through the middle of the tunnel, holding its face down for several minutes until he was sure it was dead – he could almost feel the life flow out of it. He left it there, and stepped to Angel.

Angel looked at the demon, then up at Spike. He shoved himself back against the wall, then pushed himself up on his good leg. Spike simply watched him, his gaze cool and distant. Angel cleared his throat.

"Uh, good… good job, Spike. You're a… a good fighter." Spike smirked.

"That's all I get?" he asked. Angel stared at him. "I save your worthless corpse and all you tell me is I'm a good fighter? You've known that!"

"Doesn't make it any less true," Angel defended, testing his left leg – it still buckled under his weight. He looked down and resigned himself to fate. "Do you, um, think you could – "

"Help you?" Spike asked, his voice deeper than usual. Angel glanced at him and nodded silently. Spike snorted, but stood next to Angel and took his arm. He placed it comfortably over his shoulders before reaching around Angel's waist to hold him up as the two made their way back to Faith and Wood's apartment.

* * *

"Jesus Angel, I told you to find something to do, but I didn't mean try to get yourself killed," Faith teased as she finished disinfecting his wound. The two were watched by Spike, who chose to observe from a safe distance. Faith was dressed in her trademark baggy leather pants, with a dark red tank top and her dark, wavy hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Angel's black tank top had been replaced with a white one, and his jeans were down in the basement – he was now dressed in black boxer shorts so that Faith could get to his wound.

"I would have been fine if Spike hadn't – "

"Hadn't what?" Spike interrupted. The two glared at each other for a moment before Angel continued.

"If Spike hadn't rushed after the thing and scared it," he finished.

"It was going to attack those people!" Spike argued, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"It was headed _away_ from them, Spike!" Angel raged.

"It was trying to confuse us!"

"Pargo's aren't that smart!"

"Says the man with the gash in his leg," Spike countered. Angel seethed.

"I have a gash in _my_ leg because _you_ rushed after it!" he bellowed. Kneeling in front of him, Faith chuckled. The two vampires glowered at her in unison, which made her laugh even more.

"I'm sorry," she giggled. "I don't mean to laugh, it's just… you two are so…"

"So what?" Angel asked.

"So adorable together!" Faith told them, glancing between the two. Spike's eyes widened in shock and Angel looked as though he were going to be sick.

"We are not… 'together'…" Angel said quietly.

"Yeah," Spike mumbled. Faith grinned.

"Not yet at least," she said, gathering her supplies and standing up. She walked out of the living room, leaving the two vamps alone.

"What was that supposed to mean, anyway?" Angel asked, looking at Spike. Spike shrugged.

"Not real sure, mate." He ambled over to the couch and sat down next to Angel. "And, I am actually sorry, 'bout your leg an' all. Guess I was a bit caught up in my own wants and desires that I… I got a bit reckless, ay?"

Angel snorted. "Spike, you've always been reckless. You were half the reason we couldn't stay in one place for more than a few weeks back when you were first turned." Spike sniggered.

"Right," he said, thinking back. "Dru used to call me Willy." He shook his head. "Simpler times, eh?" Angel nodded. The two sat in silence for a few moments before Spike reached over to grab the remote from the arm of the couch, flicking it in the direction of the television. He began carelessly flipping through channels until he found one he liked. He set the remote down again, watching the show intently. Angel stared at the screen, trying to figure out what was going on. There were far too many people, and far too many story lines…

"What the hell is this?" Angel asked. Spike shushed him and kept watching. Angel frowned. "I can be just as annoying as you, Spike. What are we watching?"

"The best bloody show on the telly," Spike muttered, grabbing the remote and turning the volume up. "Now shut up."

Angel huffed but continued watching. He was still very confused, but he was starting to get an idea of what was happening. It looked like one of those mindless soap operas that came on during the daytime. As he continued watching (a woman named Theresa and a man named Ethan were arguing over children right then) the thought hit him.

"Oh God," he moaned. "This is _Passions_, isn't it?"

Spike said nothing; he merely turned the volume up again to drown out Angel's voice. Angel eyed the remote, which was now resting high up on Spike's thigh. He looked back to the television, thinking up a plan to get the remote and keep it away from Spike. The first part would be easy – he could reach out and snatch it without Spike knowing it was gone until the channel changed, of that he was sure. It was keeping it away from Spike that would prove harder than usual – his injured leg (while mostly scabbed over at this point) was still a weak spot that would hinder him. But it was now or never.

As quickly as he could, he reached out and grabbed for the remote.

"ANGEL!" Spike roared. "WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOUR HAND GOES!" Angel pulled back, realizing he had not quite reached far enough. The remote now lay on the floor next to Spike's feet, while Spike's hands were cupping his groin, and he was bent over slightly, his eyes squeezed tight shut. "Mate, if you're really that hard up for some action, you should have just asked," Spike said evenly, his eyes still shut. Angel rolled his eyes.

"I was trying to get the remote," Angel told him glumly.

"Sure you were," Spike said, looking over at him. He sat back, making a large show of carefully rubbing himself. "Gotta make sure you didn't break anything," he said matter-of-factly.

"Shut up, Spike."

"Sod off, Angel."

Yielding to his bad luck, Angel dejectedly sat and watched the show with Spike until the commercials hit.

"We have to watch the rest of that?" Angel asked, sounding as innocent as possible. Spike glared out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm just asking – I mean, I'm sure there are some…"

"Bloody… Hell… No…" Spike told him, reaching down to pick up the remote. "You can't use guilt on me this time – your legs already healing. Anyone can see that. But what about me? I may never be able to tickle a girl's fancy again – thanks to you. So you can just wank off, ya git. My injury is far more serious than yours; I get to pick what we watch."

"That's right, Angel." Angel looked to his right – there, kneeling in the coffee table, was Doyle. His eyes widened as he looked at the ghost in front of him.

"You're… you're not real," he mumbled, feeling his throat seize up.

"Oh what are you on about now?" Spike asked, irritated. He looked over to Angel. The look of pure terror on his grand sire's face was enough to stop him worrying about his frustrations with the older vampire. "Angel?"

"Spike, please – tell me you see him."

"See who, Angel?"

"Doyle – the real Doyle… he's here, in the coffee table."

"Angel, no one's there," Spike told him gently.

"Forget it, Angel," Doyle's Irish brogue rolled out. "He can't see me. I'm here just for you."

"I didn't kill you," Angel said quickly, shaking his head. Spike's eyes looked at him in surprise, but the blonde vamp kept silent.

"No, of course you didn't kill me," Doyle chuckled. He smiled at Angel, shaking his head slightly. "But you didn't try to save me, either."

"I did try to save you!" Angel said hurriedly, pushing away from the armrest and into Spike's side. "I tried, I tried! Don't you remember?"

"Angel, come back to this world," Spike said uncertainly. "Come back – we don't have to watch _Passions_, I swear – "

"Listen to him, yammerin' on about a bloody television show!" Doyle laughed outright, leaning onto the armrest. "Look, Angel, here's the thick of it. You only _think_ you tried to save me."

"No, no, no, I really did try, Doyle, I never wanted you to die," Angel murmured, his eyes filling with tears. He could not do this – the visions of his friends were happening more and more frequently. They were sure to drive him mad.

"Angel, come back to me," Spike said loudly, grabbing Angel's arm. But Angel made no move to show he recognized that Spike was there.

"Doyle, I tried, I really did…"

"Not hard enough, though, eh? You were always so worried about the rest of the world, the people you never knew and who would never care about you. Always too worried about the ones who didn't matter to see that the only friends you'd ever have were slipping away from you, begging for your help."

"NO!" Angel shrieked, scrambling back from the armrest. He turned and latched onto Spike, causing the younger vampire to jump at his sudden movement. "Spike, please, help me," he begged, a few tears falling down his face. Spike stared at Angel, feeling helpless. "Please, I tried to help them, I really did – "

"I know, mate, I know," Spike said, reassuring him.

"And now you're finding comfort in the arms of _him_?" Doyle asked, standing up and walking to the front of the couch. He shook his head. "Angel, man, you can do so much better. Whatever happened with that cute little blonde girl you gave up your humanity for? Buffy, wasn't it?"

"Spike," Angel sobbed, clinging to him like a newborn to it's mother. "Spike, make it stop. I can't do this."

"What the hell happened?" Faith and Wood ran into the room to find Angel crying into Spike's chest like a child, and Spike looking completely bewildered.

"I – I dunno," he shrugged gently. "Says he was seein' another ghosty; Doyle this time."

"Make it stop, please, make it stop," Angel whimpered against Spike's chest. Faith walked cautiously towards the two vampires and knelt in front of them.

"Angel, what happened?" she asked softly.

"I can't," he whispered through his sobs. "I just can't."

"You can," she told him, placing a hand on his back and rubbing soothing circles around and around. "What did he say?"

"Said I didn't try to save him. They all tell me that," he choked out. "Cordy did it this morning, now Doyle…"

"Wait, you saw Cordelia this morning?" Faith asked, concern deepening in her face. She looked to Wood. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" Wood only nodded.

"What?" Spike asked. "What's getting worse?"

"We're not sure," Faith shrugged feebly. "We've been researching different things, but the only thing we know that could do this is The First."

"But Buffy and you – "

"Defeated it, yeah, for the time being," Faith said. "The First is never going to be gone – it will always be there. But we weakened it."

"Well, if it's The First, why isn't it messin' with all of us?" Spike asked. "You know, try an' turn us all against one another?" Faith shrugged again.

"No idea," she said, stroking up and down Angel's back. His crying had calmed a bit – Spike noticed he was no longer shaking as violently, but there was definitely a wet spot on the front of his shirt that was still getting bigger. "But one thing's for sure – Angel is coming undone, and so far, there's nothing we can do about it."

* * *

Spike paced in the small kitchen, a cleaning rag in his hand. He was supposed to be wiping down the counters and the table – instead, he was pacing the freshly swept floor, trying his hardest to figure out a cure for Angel's… _condition_. After Angel's latest round with the spirit of demons past, he had gone into a stoic state – he didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even react when Spike had slapped him… repeatedly. It was as though he had lost all will to carry on…

_WILL_! That was it! Spike couldn't believe it had taken him so long to figure it out. When Dawn had been captured by Glory the Hell God, Buffy had sunk into a catatonic state much like Angel had now. And Willow had been the one to go in and find her again, bring her back to the real world. Maybe she could do the same for Angel? Spike threw his rag into the sink and raced into the hall, towards Faith and Wood's bedroom.

He found the door closed, and knocked soundly, not wanting to barge in on them. He heard Wood invite him in from the other side of the door. His resolve set, he opened the door and stepped bravely in.

"I know how to bring Angel back," he stated confidently. Faith looked up from the book she was reading. She lay on her stomach, sprawled comfortably over the bed, propped on her elbows. Wood was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, another book in his hands.

"Thank God," Faith said, closing her book and sitting up. "I was ready to say forget it! Whatcha got?"

"Willow."

"Willow?"

"Yes Faith, Willow." Spike beamed. "She did the same thing for Buffy few years back. Buffy sank into this catatonic condition and Willow went into her mind and brought her out of it. She can do the same for Angel – I know she can. She's the best there is."

Faith nodded, looking impressed. Even Wood could not hide the smile that crept into his features. "Well then, let's get Willow here," he said.

* * *

Spike sat up, watching Angel as he lay in his own cot – for lack of a better word – lifeless. Spike knew he could not sleep – not yet, at least. Willow would be arriving tomorrow afternoon. Faith had made the call to Giles, asking for Willow to come out for a few days. A week at most. Spike shuddered at the thought that it might take her an entire week to bring Angel back into this realm of consciousness. Thankfully, Giles hadn't asked much about why she was needed – one of the advantages of being one of the original Chosen One's – The Newly Reformed Watcher's Council would damn near bend over backwards for you. Spike could imagine his reaction if he knew that Willow was on her way to help the vampires who Giles hated more than any other demons around.

"You're insufferable, you know," he muttered, gazing at Angel. He was greeted with silence; but he had expected that. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "But I don't think I could stand to be away from you again," he continued. "I've known you for so long – you're the only thing that's real to me anymore. And I wanna be real for you, too. I want us to be able to talk – really talk. I want us to be there to catch the other one when we fall." He felt a single tear roll down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. "I just want us to be happy," he whispered finally. "I want us to make it through all these hard times, so that in the end, we can say we weren't alone. Because I can't be alone anymore, Angel. I just can't be alone. Please don't leave me alone." Spike curled into a ball, crying into his knees, until finally sleep overcame him.


	4. Chapter Three: Whisper

_Catch me as I fall  
Say you're here and it's all over now  
Speaking to the atmosphere  
No one's here and I fall into myself  
This truth drives me  
Into madness  
I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away  
Don't turn away (Don't give in to the pain)  
Don't try to hide (Though they're screaming your name)  
Don't close your eyes (God knows what lies behind them)  
Don't turn out the light (Never sleep never die)  
I'm frightened by what I see  
But somehow I know  
That there's much more to come  
Immobilized by my fear  
And soon to be  
Blinded by tears  
I can stop the pain if I will it all away  
Don't turn away (Don't give in to the pain)  
Don't try to hide (Though they're screaming your name)  
Don't close your eyes (God knows what lies behind them)  
Don't turn out the light (Never sleep never die)  
Fallen angels at my feet  
Whispered voices at my ear  
Death before my eyes  
Lying next to me I fear  
She beckons me  
Shall I give in  
Upon my end shall I begin  
Forsaking all I've fallen for  
I rise to meet the end  
Don't turn away (Don't give in to the pain)  
Don't try to hide (Though they're screaming your name)  
Don't close your eyes (God knows what lies behind them)  
Don't turn out the light (Never sleep never die)  
__Don't turn away (Don't give in to the pain)  
Don't try to hide (Though they're screaming your name)  
Don't close your eyes (God knows what lies behind them)  
Don't turn out the light (Never sleep never die)  
__Don't turn away (Don't give in to the pain)  
Don't try to hide (Though they're screaming your name)  
Don't close your eyes (God knows what lies behind them)  
Don't turn out the light (Never sleep never die)  
(Never sleep never die)  
Servatis a pereculum.  
Servatis a maleficum_

"_**Whipser"  
**__**Evanescence**_

* * *

**Chapter Three  
****Whisper**

Spike lay face down on his cot, his head turned sideways. He stared at the still form of Angel, feeling chaotic emotions washing over him. He wanted to go out, to hurt something, to kill something. Wanted to kill everything, if it would bring Angel back to this world. And at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to destroy the stoic vampire who lay across the room – wanted to demolish him for ever existing, for ever bringing out these feelings concealed deep within Spike. Wanted Angel to suffer…

Because the truth was, Spike suffered – he suffered at every moment, seeing Angel there, constantly, and not being able to tell him the facts.

The facts were thus: Spike was in love. And he was in love with Angel.

In the past few hours, while drifting in and out of sleep, Spike had come to that horrible yet glorious conclusion. He was, and had been, in love with Angel for some time. He knew it had hit him before, the thought that he loved his grand sire. He could remember turning down the chance to travel to anywhere else in this world, as well as out of it, because of feelings and emotions that, at the time, he had denied and hidden.

And still, he hid these thoughts, though he no longer denied them… to himself anyway. He refused to admit these – sentiments – to anyone else, living or dead. He just wasn't one to open up to people. He was not one for sharing.

Spike heard the door at the top of the basement steps open. Soft footfalls descended, but he did not move. He simply continued to watch Angel intently, hoping that he would snap out of this and it would all be a bad dream.

"Hey," Faith's husky voice broke the silence Spike had been drowning in. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. "We're about to go get Willow. Her plane should be here in about thirty minutes. Can we get you anything while we're out?"

Spike shook his head, pushing himself up onto his elbow and looking at the Slayer standing by him.

"No, thanks," he said quietly. She smiled sadly.

"Will can bring him back, man," she told him, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. Spike nodded.

"I know Old Red can do it," he agreed. "I just worry about how long it will take, is all."

Faith crouched down next to his cot and stared at Angel's body across the room. "She'll get him back as quickly as she can." Faith sighed and stood, walking back to the stairs. Spike listened as she climbed the steps, her feet falling much heavier on the steps, as though she had just taken on a tremendous burden. The door opened then closed, and Spike lay back down. How ever long it took to get Angel back would always be far too long.

* * *

"Faith!" Willow Rosenberg walked happily into a hug, grasping Faith tightly, her smile genuine. "It's great to see you!" The two pulled apart, and she turned to Wood. "You too," she said, giving him a hug as well. "Glad I could finally come back to the States – Europe's great, but it rains too much there."

"I thought you were in Africa?" Faith asked as the three wound their way to the exits – Willow had brought only one carry-on, as she was not expecting to be there for long.

"I was," Willow said, smiling. "But my 'assignment' there ended and I went back to England – got working with the Coven again, and I'm helping Giles with reforming the Watcher's Council. That's a real mess, let me tell ya." Faith and Wood nodded as they got into the car – a silver Chevy Impala. Willow slid into the back seat.

"So, what sorta top secret mojo are we workin'?" Willow asked excitedly.

"You remember when Buffy went catatonic?" Faith asked. Willow looked confused for a moment.

"Yeah, course I do, it was right after Glory made off with Dawn, but… how… how did you know that?" Faith winked.

"Long story. One that I can explain much easier back at home." The conversation halted momentarily as Wood pulled up to the ticket booth and paid their tab for parking. "But that's what we need – we need someone brought back to our world; our realm. Is there anything you need that you didn't bring? There are a lot of shops around here that sell magic ingredients and shit, we could probably get anything you need."

"Nope, I got everything. Except candles. Do you have candles?" Willow asked. Faith smirked.

"We got candles alright," she said. Wood glanced over at her and grinned.

"They've been lit before – that make a difference?" he asked. Willow shook her head.

"Nope, as long as they still light, we're good to go."

"Then we are five by five," Faith said, settling back for the ride home.

Along the way, Willow talked to the two about things in Europe: the new Watcher's Council, Buffy, Dawn, Xander, the new Watchers themselves, new Slayers, and anything else she could think of. Faith noticed that not once did the young witch bring up Kennedy, a Slayer she had been dating during the final battle against The First – but Faith kept quiet, not wanting to bring up anything that might distract Willow from her task. The car pulled into a parking garage, and Willow sighed.

"You doin' OK, Will?" Faith asked as the three walked through the mostly empty lot and into the building.

"Just, kinda, nervous really," Willow shrugged. "Out on my own, magic always tends to give me that sorta feelin' in my tummy – like I've swallowed a cave full of bats – and they're all trying to get out again. I just… I don't wanna go all…" she trailed off as Wood unlocked the door and they stepped in.

"Welcome home," he said as Willow stepped through the door.

"This is great," she said, turning around in a circle. "I mean, it's really nice!"

"Yeah," Faith said, shrugging casually. "You can say it – it's practically a hell hole."

"No," Willow said quickly. "You're in hiding, and this is a great place that won't draw attention to you!" Faith laughed.

"Yeah, I don't think many people would look for me here," she said, smiling. "Now, I do believe I owe you an explanation."

"That's right!" Willow said, her features turning stern. "This is my resolve face – you will tell me or you will not get any help. See? Resolve face."

"Actually, I'm not going to tell you," Faith said, leading her down a hallway to the right and towards the door that lead to the basement. "I'm gonna show you." Willow looked confused, but followed obediently. Faith knocked on the door, then opened it.

"You boys decent?" she called. Scrambling came from the darkened basement, and Willow strained to try and see around Faith. The only thing she could see at the moment though were the steps leading down, and the floor immediately at the bottom of them.

"Is she here?" Willow's eyes widened as she recognized a voice she hadn't heard in more than a year and a half.

"Oh my…" she whispered. "Spike?"

As if on cue, Spike appeared at the bottom of the steps, wearing dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He stared up at the witch he hadn't seen since…

"Willow," he whispered. Life seemed to flood his dead body, and he took the steps two at a time; Faith just moved out of the way before Spike caught Willow in a tight hug, burying his face in her hair.

"Thank the Powers you're here," he breathed, holding her as tightly as he dared. Her arms wrapped around him, and she smiled.

"I could say the same about you," she mused as the two pulled apart, "but I don't know how… or why… you're here at all. I thought – "

"I did," he nodded. "I burned to ashes under the high school back in Sunnydale. It was the amulet." Willow slapped her forehead.

"Of course – it held mystical influence over your essence, and could therefore bring you back into this plane of existence. The only question is – how?"

"And that is _the_ question, love," Spike told her. "I remember the high school, and then next thing I know, I'm a bloody ghost standin' in Angel's office at Wolfram & Hart. Becoming corporeal again is a really long and painful story – suffice it to say, I got a bit of ghost post and suddenly, I was back in the game."

"This is just insane," Willow said.

"It is," Spike agreed, turning and walking back down the steps. Willow followed closely. "So now, Angel and I been hidin' out. Just got here the other day, to Cleveland. Found Faith and Wood." The two were walking across the room. Willow saw a cot with –

"Angel," she gasped, kneeling quickly beside him. She looked up at Spike. "What happened?"

"He's been seeing things," Wood said. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, as was Faith. "Seeing ghosts. Says they keep blaming him for their deaths. Some of them are, in fact, people he killed. Others are friends."

"Cordelia was one of them," Faith said. Willow's eyes widened.

"Oh God, Cordy?" she murmured, her hands going to her mouth.

"It was a coma," Spike said gently, still standing. "Pretty complicated, but as usual, mystical." He paused. "I thought Angel told you all."

Willow shook her head, feeling a few tears fall. She had never been close friends with Cordelia Chase, but when Xander had dated her, she had at least not said anything bad about her. Even helped her at times. And now, she was dead.

"I've missed so much," she said sadly, wiping her face. "What else don't I know about? Where are Fred, and Wesley? And that other guy… Gunn? Or that green demon, Lorne, right? Where are they?"

Spike ran a hand through his un-gelled hair, looking down at her sadly. "Fred died… few months ago. She got this… coffin thing… in her lab – inhaled some dust, ended up being the spirit of one of The Old Ones – Ilyria."

"What?" Willow asked, disbelief clouding her face. Spike nodded.

"It's hard to believe, I know. And then… well, Angel decided to take on the Senior Partners – Wesley fell during his assignment. Died in Ilyria's arms. Gunn showed up for the final battle, but he died within minutes, he was so badly wounded. Lorne – I've no idea where he is, or how he is. He told us all he wouldn't meet us for the final battle – just as well though. Hope he got to a place where he could live and be happy – the fighter's life was never one for him. 'S why he left his home dimension, apparently."

Willow felt her heart break into tiny pieces of dust – she could not believe what had happened. All those people, some of them people she had known well, almost considered friends… all dead now. She wondered why it was that no one had at least told her about Wesley's death – his father was now one of the three Head Watchers… unless…

"No one else knows that, do they?" Willow asked, looked up at Spike as her tears fell. He shrugged gently.

"No idea – I thought Angel would have told you, or at least told Giles. I'm guessing he never made that call though." Willow shook her head. Spike kneeled next to her. "If it helps any, I think that he may not have been able to deal with it all – all the deaths. He feels like he's ruined so many people's futures, maybe he couldn't bring himself to admit that these lives are gone now as well." Willow nodded slightly, trying to comprehend what she was hearing.

"How long?" she asked, looking at Angel.

"Twenty five hours, thirty-seven minutes," Spike told her. She laughed tiredly.

"Could ya be a bit more precise?" she asked sarcastically. Spike smiled.

"How soon?" he asked her. Her smile lessened, and she cocked her head to one side.

"Not sure," she told him. "I was lucky with Buffy – I have no idea how long it will take on Angel." Spike nodded.

"Just tell me how I can help."

* * *

Night had fallen. Willow sat in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and going through her supplies. Spike sat across the table from her, watching keenly. She whispered to herself, going through a mental checklist of what to do once inside Angel's mind.

"And you're sure you can do this?" she asked Spike. He stared into her eyes.

"It'll help him, right?" he asked. Willow nodded. "Then I'm sure."

"Good," she said, sounding confident. "I think we're ready then."

The two made their way to the basement, where Faith and Wood had just finished setting up all the candles. Once lit, Faith and Wood made their way back up the stairs as Willow and Spike sat down on his cot, which had been pulled next to Angel's. Angel was propped up in a sitting position, staring into oblivion.

"Now, take hold of this," Willow said, offering Spike one end of a small crystal. Spike took it and held it tightly. Willow showed him her own crystal. "These will keep us together throughout the whole thing. If you drop the crystal, I'll lose you – which means I'll have to come out of Angel's mind to bring you back in, and I don't know if I can get us both back in after the first shot." Spike nodded.

"Let's do this," he whispered. Willow smiled, then took hold of his free hand.

"Close your eyes and open your mind to me," she whispered. Spike let his eyes roll back in his head, concentrating on letting Willow in.

A few moments later, he heard Willow's voice. "We're here," she said softly. Spike opened his eyes.

He stood, transfixed, watching as scene after scene flipped passed him like a giant television screen. No, not passed him. He was not sure how to put it – he was not a spectator, he was physically standing in every memory that whirled in front of his eyes; every moment of Angel's life and death – he was there.

"You shouldn't be here." Spike turned and saw Angel walking up to him. The memories slowed but continued flipping.

"Angel, we're here to get you back," Spike said. Angel looked behind him.

"Willow," he said in greeting. The young witch smiled back.

"Come on Angel," she said, holding out her hand. He stared at her, emotionless. Then he looked back at Spike.

"You should go," he said, turning and walking away from them. Spike looked back at Willow.

"We gotta follow him," she said softly. "Otherwise we won't be able to help him." Spike nodded.

"Angel!" he called out. "Angel, wait for us!"

Angel turned around, watching them catch up to him. "You really need to go," he told them, still emotionless. "I'll be fine here – "

"LIAM!" Spike looked around. The area was completely unrecognizable – he was certain he had never seen this place before. Angel turned to the sound of the voice, his eyes widening in fear.

"Coming, Father!" a young boy called. From behind Angel, a boy of no more than eight ran up a hill to the left. Angel looked back to his companions. "Really, you need to go. I'm fine here." He rushed up the hill after the boy and disappeared overtop of it.

"Come on!" Willow said, racing after him. Spike followed, trying to sort things out in his mind. Were they back in Ireland in the 1700's? He had never heard Angel referred to as Liam, but he knew that was his name. It made sense…

"I'll teach you to stay out with that no account Patrick O'Leary all day!" Spike was standing in front of a moderate house, looking into the front window with Willow. Angel was inside, watching as his eight year old self was given a severe beating from a man Spike presumed was his father. Angel stood beside his younger self, tears rolling down his face as he saw his father's hand raise in the air again and again. Spike felt his jaw clenching as he watched the cruelty Angel's father exacted on him.

"My Goddess," Willow gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. Spike placed an arm around her shoulders comfortingly, trying to hold himself together as the young boy cried out. He had never known about Angelus' family – Angelus' had warned that that subject was completely off limits. Spike had asked, of course, and Angelus had punished him.

"Go find me a pitchfork," the man barked at the boy, who now had bleeding welts on his back. The boy whimpered something that sounded like a protest, and his father pulled him up by his shirt.

"If I find the pitchfork myself, it'll be even worse," the man menaced. The boy's eyes widened and he shook his head, mumbling that he would find it and bring it right away. The man dropped him and the boy scrambled out of the house.

"I told you two to leave." Spike turned around to see Angel standing there behind them. Willow turned and looked at Angel with pity. The memories began flipping again, making Spike feel as though he were in a badly spliced movie – all the frames seemed out of order, and it was starting to make him sick to his stomach.

"Angel, we have to go," Willow said, holding out her hand. "Please?"

Angel looked at her hand, his face blank. The memories slowed, then stopped on one in particular. Angel looked around, then closed his eyes.

"You need to go," he said again, opening his eyes. "I can't come back. Not from this. I have to stay here." He stepped just passed them and stood, watching the scene. Spike began looking around. They were in London now. The center of town, with the fountain bubbling, the shops lit up, the cobbled roads. It looked like it had when he had last lived there – in fact, it looked like –

"Watch where you're going!" He turned and saw himself, known then as William, stumbling and stamping away from Darla, Angelus, and Drusilla. Drusilla turned to watch him with interest, while Darla merely scoffed about him. Angelus leaned into Drusilla, whispering something in her ear. She smirked and strode away from Darla and Angelus, walking carefully after William. Spike already knew what would happen when she caught up with him – she would turn him into a vampire. But he had never heard the true story behind Darla's sudden absence just after he was turned. Angel started walking after the couple, and Willow and Spike followed.

The five of them reached a large and very posh looking house – Spike forgot who had owned it. Darla and Angelus walked inside. Angel walked through the door. Willow and Spike followed him.

"What is wrong with you?" Darla shouted, turning and facing Angelus. Angelus grinned, which only proved to upset Darla further. "You dare to smile at me when I am so cross with you?" she yelled, her hand a blur of motion.

SMACK!

The sound resonated through the mostly empty house. Angelus brought a hand to his lips, pulling his fingers back to reveal blood.

"Ah, my Sweet Death, how could I ever smile in your presence?" he spat in that deep, Irish accent. He turned away from her. She frowned, grabbing his arm and turning him back to her.

"We have already fed for the night, and yet you goad her on, encouraging her to eat again! We shall be found out before long, and I will not hesitate to leave the both of you stranded!"

"What harm could it – "

SMACK!

Angelus glared this time, rubbing his cheek as Darla's face changed into her vampire visage. "Don't ever question me, Angelus," she warned. "I made you."

"I _chose_ to let it happen," he told her, grabbing her throat. In a blur he had her against the wall, pinned. She looked at him, contempt written all over her features. His eyes glowed yellow, and he too changed into his vampire face. "Now tell me, Darla, exactly how you'll be apologizin'." She glared at him, then changed her features back.

"Put me down, Angelus?" she asked sweetly. He smirked, sliding her down the wall carefully – his grip never faltering. Her feet back on the ground, she began unbuttoning her dress. Angelus' grip relaxed slightly – and she seized her chance.

In a flash, a wooden stake had impaled the left side of his chest – inches below his heart. He staggered back from her, grabbing the stake and wrenching it out of him. Darla raced for the front door, shouting back to him, "I'm off to visit my Master – we'll see what _he_ thinks of my treatment!" Angelus roared as he threw down the stake and stalked off to the bedroom.

"Angel," Willow called as the memories began switching again. Spike felt his stomach grow increasingly nauseous as the views changed constantly. Angel turned back to them, his eyes sad and lifeless.

"Please leave," he whispered. "I don't think I can stand your kindness."

"I'm not leaving unless you come with us," Spike said resolutely. Angel stared at him, then walked as close as he could to him.

"Why would you want me back in the world, Spike?" Angel asked him, his voice sounding desperate. "Give me one good reason to go back there."

The images were slowing again – this time, they were in a small apartment.

"Angel!"

Spike saw a very young Buffy run to Angel's side.

"Hey!"

"Oh!" She looked as though she had been worried about him.

"Hey."

Angel was different… Spike realized this was after he had turned back into Angelus. This was the morning after he and Buffy…

"Oh my God, I was so worried!" Buffy's eyes were watery as she held onto Angelus tightly, not knowing it wasn't Angel.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Angelus told her soothingly. Spike felt a flare of anger – he had loved Buffy. They both had. And now, with a soul, it hurt to see Buffy get this end of the stake, so to speak.

"Where did you go?"

"Been around." Spike felt his heart breaking – he knew what it was like when Angel – or rather Angelus – just took off with no warning. It had hurt when he was still just barely twenty years old as a vampire. And it hurt now seeing him do this to Buffy.

"Ohhh. Oh my God! I was freaking out! You just disappeared!"

"What? I took off."

"But you didn't say anything. You just left."

Willow was crying silently next to him – she had, of course, heard all about how Angel had treated Buffy that morning. But to see it herself – to be there, in the memory – that hurt her so much more than she could have imagined.

"Buffy," Willow whispered. Angel stood next to her, watching the scene unfold.

"I, I don't understand. Was it m-me? Was I not good?" Buffy was crying, looking at Angelus in confusion.

"You were great. Really. I thought you were a pro."

"Stop." Spike looked over to see Angel crying now. "Stop! STOP!" he shouted. But the scene played on.

"Come on, Buffy. It's not like I've never been there before."

"Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry!" Angel rushed forward, trying to touch Buffy. But his fingers passed right through her like he was a ghost. He fell to his knees as the scene ended. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" He pitched forward, cowering in a ball like a scared animal. "I just want it to stop!"

Willow rushed forward, placing her arms around Angel. "Angel, we can make it stop," she said amidst his anguished howls. If you come with us, we can make it stop!"

He looked up at her now, his face tear streaked and blotchy. He shook his head. "No," he said sadly. "I have to be here – it's what I deserve."

"It is not bloody well what you deserve!" Spike shouted, taking a few steps towards Angel as the scenes continued their rotation. He walked to Angel's front and yanked him onto his feet. "You're a good man," Spike told him, trying to get Angel to believe him. "You want a reason to come back to our world, fine! Because you're a champion, Angel. A hero for the people."

Angel's sad brown eyes looked into sapphire blue. "Not good enough," he whispered. "I've helped a lot of people… but I've hurt a lot more."

Spike let go of him and turned away, angry. "What about Buffy?" he asked.

"Buffy would never be able to love me again," Angel shook his head. Willow stood up next to him.

"Please, Angel, we _need_ to go."

The images began slowing again – They were on a boat, sailing out into the ocean. Angel's barely younger self was strapped into a metal coffin, calling out desperately.

"Listen to me. I love you! Never forget that."

Spike saw a young man of nearly eighteen years and a woman in her late twenties hoisting a metal and glass lid.

"Connor! Connor, never forget that I'm your father and that I love you."

Angel was desperate – his eyes were pleading as the lid was lowered.

"Connor? Con – "

The voice stopped as the lid closed. Connor and the woman began sealing the lid – welding it into place. They walk to one end of the metal casket and shove it hard into the water.

"This is horrible," Willow whispered beside Spike. Angel swallowed next to him, watching his won son bury him the ocean.

"My son," he whispers. The image becomes hazy, and the revolution begins anew. "I spent three months down in that casket."

"Why relive it, then?" Spike asked him. Angel turned to face him.

"Because I still don't have a reason not to."

"It was a bloody awful experience!" Spike raged. He glared as Angel regarded him blankly. "You were miserable! And you obviously never quite got over it! Not many people could! So why go through it all again?"

"Because I'm a monster."

"You're a sadist, that's what you are mate."

"I'm not a thing worth saving."

"You are, Angel," Willow told him. "We wouldn't be here if we didn't think you were worth saving."

Angel smiled miserably. "You're too nice to me, Willow." She frowned. "You should have staked me long ago."

"Stop it, ya wank," Spike said angrily, grabbing Angel's arm. "We need to go! Willow and I dunno how much longer we can stay here."

"Then go," Angel said, pulling his arm free. "I need to stay."

Spike pressed as close to Angel's side as he could. "Please, Angel," he begged quietly. "I need someone to talk to in the real world. And I can talk to you. Please?"

Angel turned to him. "Finally, a reason," he whispered back. Brown eyes met blue, and Spike thought, for a flicker of a moment, that Angel could see how he felt – could see he was in love with him. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped short as Willow grabbed his left hand – his right was intertwined with Angel's.


	5. Chapter Four: Broken

_Alone again, again alone  
Patiently waiting by the phone  
Hoping that you will call me home  
The pain inside my love denied  
Hopes and dreams swallowed by pride  
Everything I need it lies in you  
'Cause I'm broken  
I know I need you now  
'Cause deep inside I'm broken  
You see the way I live  
I know, I know your heart is broken  
When I turn away  
I need to be broken  
Take the pain away  
I question why you chose to die  
When you knew your truth I would deny  
You look at me  
The tears begin to fall  
And all in all faith is blind  
But I fail time after time  
Daily in my sin I take your life  
All the hate deep inside  
Slowly covering my eyes  
All these things I hide  
Away from you again  
All this fear holding me  
My heart is cold and I believe  
Nothing's gonna change  
Until I'm whole again_

"**_Broken"  
_**_**12 Stones**_

* * *

**Chapter 4  
****Broken**

THUD!

Spike felt himself being thrown back into his body – felt himself knocked off his cot – felt something, or someone, land on top of him.

"Oh dear God, get off me ya great lump!" he groaned as he lay on his back. Angel stared down at him, his hands pushing him up slightly.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, it's me," Spike said, looking at Angel's eyes.

"You… you came for me," Angel said quietly.

"Willow got me in," Spike said. "Now, seriously, get off, before people start talking." Angel nodded and shoved himself off of Spike and onto the floor next to him.

"What happened?" Spike looked towards the stairs – Faith was helping Willow up off the floor a good distance away.

"I guess that's just a normal side effect," Willow said, casually dusting herself off. "I've only ever done that once, and with Buffy, it was… different."

"We OK though?" Faith asked as Spike sat up. Next to him, Angel continued laying on the floor, but he was at least looking around and moving a bit. Willow nodded.

"Should be good to go," she said. "He'll probably be pretty drained for a few… how long were we gone?"

Faith sighed. "About two days. We were starting to get worried. Finally, we set up shifts watching you guys so that when you finally came back through, we'd know." Spike stared at her hesitantly.

"We were gone for how long?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

"We were on a different plane of existence," Willow told him. "Maybe that plane travels at a different speed than this one does," she suggested.

"Must be," Faith said. "Wood an' I were really freaked – didn't know if you guys were ever coming back. Wondered if you could even find Angel."

The two girls continued talking as Angel rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his feet, looking around as though stepping into the room for the first time. Spike watched him carefully.

"You're home, Angel," Spike whispered, leaning in close to him. "You're safe – here, with me."

"And Faith," Angel stated, still looking around. "And Wood."

"Yeah, and Faith and Wood," Spike said flatly. Angel nodded.

"I'm safe," he whispered to himself. He turned his head to see Spike, and forced a smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime, mate," Spike told him, returning the smile with equal forcedness. He knew Angel still had some real recovery time ahead of him – he wasn't expecting miracles. He also knew Angel would not be himself for a while. But Angel could at least show real gratitude to his rescuers. Especially after he had held Spike's hand that way; looked into his eyes that way…

"Guys?" Spike and Angel snapped their heads to the ladies, who were now at the top of the stairs. "You comin' up?" Faith asked. Angel nodded slightly. Spike smiled at her.

"We'll be up in a minute," Spike said. "I think we should maybe change out of these clothes, if we've been wearin' them for a few days now." Willow smiled.

"I'm thinking a shower is in order first, at least for me," she giggled. "We'll see you in a little bit though?"

"Yeah," Angel said, giving her his best relaxed look. Spike had seen that look so many times – he knew exactly what it meant. It meant that Angel was currently fighting his own inner battles, but he didn't want you to know that. Willow beamed, and she and Faith walked through the door.

Spike heard the catch as the door closed and turned to Angel abruptly. "What's really goin' on, then?" he asked boldly. Angel turned his relaxed gaze on his grandchild.

"Nothing, Spike. I'm fine."

"Bollocks!" Spike hissed as Angel turned and moved to a small clothing rack – it held all of his new clothes. He began selecting a new shirt as Spike continued. "I know you better than that, Angelus – "

"Don't!" Angel started, feeling his temper flare at the use of his old name. He averted his eyes as he turned to Spike. "Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That."

"And why the bloody hell not?" Spike asked, amused at the anger he had caused. Infuriating Angel had always been one of his favorite past times. Angel turned back to his clothes, grabbing a forest green t-shirt off the rack.

"Because I'm asking you," Angel sighed. He felt himself breaking – felt the walls he had carefully, methodically built over the last two centuries – felt them crumbling as he stood there, trying to make sense of everything that had happened since that damned night in the alley.

"You can't rationalize it, Angel." He looked up, his eyes wide in terror. There, in front of him, was Fred. Her glasses were sitting near the end of her nose, her wavy brown hair pulled back loosely in a small clip, a few ringlets framing her face as she smiled at him.

"No, no, no, NO!" he shouted, grabbing his head. He ducked into a crouch, his arms encircling his head as best they could. "No, no…"

Spike watched, horror struck, as Angel stooped in front of him, keening and howling like an animal. Chanting the same word over and over.

"No, no, no, no…"

He sat down and took his grandsire into his arms, holding him close. "No, no, no, no…"

"It's alright, Angel," Spike murmured.

"Yeah, Angel," Fred's voice floated through the air and into Angel's mind. "It's alright. I mean, you used my painful and untimely death for your own personal gain, which in the end proved to be a greater plan to make a small but noticeable stand against the evil we fought but were working for, and I'm rambling again, aren't I?" Angel peeked out from under Spike's arm.

"No, no, no, no…."

"Yes, yes, yes," Fred said, kneeling next to them. She giggled slightly. "Can't run away, Angel. Remember? Handsome man saves me from the monsters?"

"No, no, no…"

"Angel, fight it," Spike said, still holding him tightly. "Fight it, you have to fight. It's not real."

"He's right you know," Fred agreed. She shrugged. "I'm not real. I'm just one of those uncommon spectral anomalies that sometimes manifest after severe mental or physical trauma. Unless there's something in your metaphysical make up, or some kind of pathogen spreading throughout your – wait, you wouldn't have pathogens, vampires don't get sick. Silly me."

"No, no…"

"Fight, Angel."

"You can't fight this, Angel," Fred said softly, reaching out to his face. He tried to pull back, but Spike held him steady.

"Fight it," he growled. "It can't touch you, don't pull away from it."

"No…"

"Yes," Spike argued. "Yes, Angel, fight it. Fight for me – remember? I gotta have someone to talk to – and you're it."

Fred's hand dipped through Angel's face. "You couldn't save me," she whispered as she began to fade from his sight. "You can't save anyone…"

"No…" Angel sobbed still, pushing against Spike.

"Angel, stop fighting me, fight the ghost," Spike said. Angel watched Fred disappear into nothing.

"No," he moaned. "I can save people, I know I can…"

"Of course you can," Spike soothed, feeling Angel relaxing ever so slightly. He was not pushing away so much as pulling Spike into him now.

"I can save… I can…"

"Yes," Spike nodded, feeling Angel pushing himself against Spike as much as he could. He knew that Angel was just desperate for that sense of belonging, that sense of knowing he wasn't worthless. And nowhere would any vampire find that sense better than in the arms of one they considered family. So Spike let him do what he had to. Angel's mouth and nose ran over his neck, breathing him in. His hands roamed Spike's back, reveling in the feeling of home. Spike felt Angel calming slightly, felt his anxiety slowly creep back into the depths.

At last, Angel sat limp in his arms, his face nestled comfortably in between Spike's neck and shoulder. Spike traced gentle shapes along Angel's back.

"Thank-you." Spike tilted his head slightly, leaning it away from Angel's so that he might hear a bit better.

"What was that?"

"Thank-you," Angel repeated. "For… helping me. For coming in with Willow when I… thanks. And for this."

Spike smiled. "Anytime."

* * *

"So you're still seeing ghosts."

Willow's red hair was currently dark, almost brown. She had taken a shower last night, but upon waking up felt as though she should take another one. After spending almost two days trapped in Angel's tormented mind, she felt, well… more than just dirty. Partly because of the lack of showers while she had been projecting herself and Spike into Angel's memories. But mostly just because of the memories she had seen. They had been disturbing, to say the least. But she had to admit, she had a newfound respect for him – to carry so much guilt, and grief, and sorrow, for so long… there had been times when she hadn't been strong enough to carry her own tortured past. She was sure she would never have survived as long as Angel, carrying around his memories.

Angel looked at the dining table as the five of them sat around it. He wore a black button up shirt and black slacks. To his immediate left sat Spike, who was reclining as far as he could in his chair, watching him intently. His gaze had not strayed from Angel for the duration of the talk – which had thus far been the past fifteen minutes.

"So what can we do to stop it?" Faith, who was next to Spike also, was leaning on her elbows. Her fingers were laced in front of her. She had not bothered to get out of her pajamas – a white tank top and short boxer shorts. Her hair was disheveled. But she was alert and ready for anything.

Willow attempted a smile. "Well, actually, there's really not a whole lot we can do. If he's seeing ghosts – "

"Unacceptable," Spike said, his gaze still locked on Angel. Slowly, his eyes trailed to Willow, then to Wood, who sat between her and Faith. He looked back to Willow, her hair dripping casually onto her light blue satin pajama shirt. "Something's gotta be done – he goes on like this much longer, he'll ruddy well go insane." Angel continued to look at the table.

"Spike, we can't just rush into anything," Wood said. He too was reclined, his arms wrapped around his chest, which was covered in a white tank top like Faith. He regarded the blonde vampire coolly. Spike knew Wood would never forgive him for killing his mother – but it had been almost thirty years ago. Why couldn't he at least understand that Spike was indeed sorry? Why couldn't he at least see that Spike had no intentions of doing anything like that ever again?

"Wood's right," Faith told him. "We rush, we might do something even worse – and none of us want that." Willow nodded.

"I can call Giles – "

"No." All eyes turned to Angel, who looked up finally. "No, don't call – I'll be fine."

"You did a whole mess of screamin' last night that says otherwise," Faith said. Angel looked at her, pain and desperation filling his eyes. "I know you're strong, Angel. But you're in some serious trouble and we want to help. Everyone needs help."

Angel nodded. "But there's nothing you guys can do – "

"I'll call Giles," Willow repeated. "He might know, or the Council – "

"They wouldn't help me before," Angel said temperately. "I don't see why they would now."

"It's a lot different now," Willow told him. He huffed.

"I'll be fine," he stated, pushing away from the table and walking out of the kitchen. Spike stared after him.

"Ruddy Mick," he grumbled. "Just as I thought all along – the hair gel he's been usin' for who knows how long has finally eaten the last of his brain. Fine indeed." Spike glanced to Willow. "How soon can you call Giles?" She shrugged.

"Anytime. I have his direct line, his home line, everything actually. Twenty-four hour Giles access."

"Call him," Spike said. "If we got any chance of at least _helpin'_ Angel, we need to know it, and it needs to happen like, yesterday. Poor bloke. Can't hardly sleep, can't stay awake. No appetite. And that's just me," he said, smiling. Willow grinned.

"Yeah, I can see that Angel's personal torment is really taking its toll on you."

"Damn right."

* * *

Spike was in the living room, going through some basic workouts. Pushups, sit ups, stretches, anything at all he could think of to keep his mind off of the sounds of Angel's shrieks.

Since the conversation that morning, he had seen Angel only once – when his grandsire had started screaming again and he had run in to find him cowering naked in a corner, a large piece of metal in his hands as he cut into his skin over and over again – on his legs, his arms, his chest. Spike had a few cuts of his own from wrestling the scrap metal out of Angel's grasp, including a long and jagged slice across his left cheek that had almost given him another hole in his body. After that, Angel had told Spike to leave him alone – something Spike had been grossly uncomfortable with, but Angel had insisted. Spike had argued every point he could, but Angel had still shoved him out. So now, Spike was doing anything to stop the resounding cries that echoed sharply in his mind.

Willow, Faith, and Wood had journeyed to one or more of the local self proclaimed 'occult shops' in town. Giles had talked to Willow about a spell that was said to help in the case of a demon being possessed. But not before giving her a long lecture about the fact that she was in fact helping Angel, who had in fact been running Wolfram & Hart, which was in fact still one of the worst evils ever born into this world. Willow had assured Giles that his concerns were unwarranted, and Spike had been lucky enough to catch his reply. Something to the effect of, "Yes, of course, crazy old Giles just throwing out the idea that maybe vampires and demons aren't the cuddly creatures we all know them to be! Ruddy magnificent, we're still trying to _save_ them rather than _slay_ them."

Spike smiled a bit as he recalled Giles – he had not seen the Watcher since that day at the high school, when he had saved the world.

_I saved the world_.

As he stood up and grabbed the small towel he had brought into the living room, he smiled.

_I might be a demon, but I saved the world_. _Top that, Watcher boy_.

He walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a large container with blood. He poured some into a mug and set it into the microwave, pushing a few buttons and letting it go. He walked back into the hallway, listening closely for sounds of Angel – there were none. He shook his head, walking back into the kitchen in time to hear the microwave being at him. He took the mug out, sipping at its contents, becoming lost in his own thoughts.

"Anymore in there?" Spike turned to see Angel standing in the doorway, wearing only his slacks. His chest was beginning to heal already – but much slower than usual. Angel needed to feed to help the healing process. Spike smiled.

"Plenty – want me to heat some for you?" Angel shook his head.

"I can get it," he said, opening the fridge. He pulled out the container, reaching into the dish rack that sat on the counter and grabbing a mug. Once his own cup was heated, he walked to the table and sat down.

"They called Giles, didn't they?" he asked. Spike nodded, leaning against one of the counters.

"They're worried about you, mate." Angel looked at Spike.

"And you?"

"I'm bloody well terrified," Spike admitted. He set his mug down next to him. "Last few days have been… well, they've been a right hell, to be honest. But we're here, we're in this together, and we'll make it through. I'm here for you. You know that."

Angel nodded. He stood up and walked to the doorway, leaving his cup still steaming slightly. Spike frowned as he heard the door to the basement open and close. "Ruddy git."

The front door opened this time, and Spike stood as Willow and Faith walked into the kitchen. Wood followed them, carrying several bags, which he set down on the table.

"What's all this?" Spike asked, moseying over and rifling through the bags.

"It's what's gonna help Angel," Willow said cheerily. She began pulling ingredients out of the sacks, laying them out on the table. Spike continued poking through the contents until she finally shooed him out of her way. "I need to get all of this ready, Spike, and I can't do that with you moving everything – go. How's Angel? You checked on him lately – oh God, Spike, your face! What happened?"

"I checked on Angel," Spike said, grabbing the now cooling blood off the table and returning to the counter. "He started screamin' again – don't know who he saw, but whoever it was, they were pretty bad ass. Got down there and he was naked, tryin' to see how many cuts he could put on his body before he passed out I think. Got this and a few others gettin' the piece o' metal outta his hands. He was up here just a few minutes before you all got home – came up, heated some blood, asked if you called the Watcher, then went back downstairs."

Willow nodded sadly. Spike knew she was nearly as concerned about Angel as he was – and he was thankful for it. She continued separating and organizing ingredients as he watched in silence.

"So," he broke the silence many moments later. "When do we get this mojo workin' and fix our old pal Angel, ay?"

* * *

Night had fallen, dark and heavy, with a sickening thickness in the air that seemed to coat Spike's skin like blood. He shivered at the imagery his mind brought forth, shaking his head and turning his focus back to the task at hand. He was currently walking outside the building, sprinkling salt around the perimeter. It was a fairly common practice in magic. And as Willow had said – the sooner it happened, the sooner she could work the banishing spell that should set Angel free of his ghostly tormentors.

After finishing his task, he raced back inside and down into the basement. Upon opening the door that led out of the hallway, he felt overcome with the scents of herbs and incense that Willow had set up. He placed the back of his hand to his nose, trying to avoid the overpowering scents as best he could. He rushed down the stairs and joined the witch near Angel's cot.

"All set?" she asked hopefully. He nodded, his hand never leaving his face. She beamed at him. "Sorry 'bout all the, ya know, the smells," she said. "But it's what Giles told me – "

"If it'll make Angel less of a self flagellating knob, I'm all for it." She nodded, picking up an ancient looking text and opening tentatively to a marked page. Spike looked to Angel, who was cowering on his cot, his face streaked with tears and traces of blood. Around his bed were several bunches of herbs. He looked up suddenly, catching Spike's eyes.

Spike wanted nothing more in that moment than to run to him, hold him, and tell him it would be alright. He wanted to comfort his grandsire, wanted to whisper soothingly in his ear. But Willow had given him strict instructions: he was to stand clear of Angel, and be ready to help her harness the magic's should anything go wrong.

"Here goes nothin'," she whispered. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she closed her eyes, directing her energy into her new mission. She opened her eyes and began to chant.

"Angels of protection – angels who clear. Remove all spirits who don't belong here! What is dark be filled with light. Remove these spirits from my sight!"

Spike's eyes widened as he watched several beacons of bright light emerge, all of them converging to the bunches of herbs and incense. Willow kept her concentration as she pulled her Athame out of her sleeve and pointed it up at the sky, then slowly, menacingly, dragging the tip through the air until it pointed at the floor. Angel let out a terrified and pain filled cry, wrenching Spike's heart.

"Spirits of evil, unfriendly beings, unwanted guests, be gone!" She continued her chant, bringing the Athame up to shoulder level and turning slowly around in a complete circle. Still, Angel shrieked. "Leave us, leave this place, leave this circle. Go, or be cast into the outer darkness! Go, or be drowned in the watery abyss! Go, or be burned in the flames! Go, or be torn by the whirlwind! By the power of Hecate, we banish you! We banish you! We banish you!" She was shouting now, though she was barely heard over Angel. Her eyes had bled into black pools, but behind the pools Spike could see the purest light he had ever witnessed.

All around the cot, the bunches of herbs were now glowing with the spirits bound to them, almost burning in intensity. Angel was writhing and gasping on his cot, looking as though he were being tortured by an invisible hand. Willow kept her focus, shouting once more, "We banish you!"

The room fell silent, all the lights extinguished as a strong gust of wind blew through the room, rustling Spike's hair and chilling his corpse. No one uttered a word, or even moved, for what felt like hours. Then a small, almost hesitant voice spoke.

"Angel?" Spike almost thought it had been he who had broken the silence, until he realized that the voice had been far too feminine. He immediately began feeling in his pockets, fishing something out. With a loud _click_, his silver lighter flared into being and illuminated Angel, who lay on his bed, still as death. Spike took several steps forward, until at last he was kneeling next to his grandsire.

"Angel?" he asked, reaching out with his free hand to trail his fingers lazily over the skin on his arm. Angel's head turned, looking him in the eyes.

"Spike," he whispered, smiling faintly. "Am I…"

"Safe as houses," Spike told him, feeling his own mouth turn up gently at the corners. "Right Red?"

"Should be," she said, kneeling next to him. "How ya doin', Angel?"

Angel sat up and shrugged. "Guess I'm OK – other than the fact that for the better part of the past few days I've been going completely insane, being haunted by demon ghosts of my deceased friends."

"So, pretty much a typical week at the office for people like us, huh?" Willow asked. Angel chuckled.

"Pretty much," he said. Willow stood.

"Are you two gonna be OK now?" she asked. Spike nodded up at her.

"You can go to bed now – I know you must be exhausted, what with all the David Copperfield tricks you pulled the last few days. We'll be fine," he assured her. She smiled and placed a friendly hand on Angel's shoulder before retreating to the stairs, making her way up to the main area of the house carefully. Spike heard the door close, then turned to Angel.

"You really alright, mate?"

"I think so," Angel said. "I feel… different. Like I've been… fixed… but part of me is still broken."

"Hell of a way to _be_ broken."

Angel said nothing, and for a few minutes the two sat in silence again. Then Angel spoke up.

"You don't… don't think you could maybe, heat up some blood, do ya?" Spike stared at Angel in disbelief.

"Just cause you've been all haunted and tormented doesn't mean I'll roll over for ya now," he scoffed, standing up. Angel nodded, then tried to stand up. Spike pushed him back onto the cot. He looked up at him, confused.

"But I will help you, ya know, on the whole road to recovery." Spike smiled at his grandsire before turning and walking up the stairs.


	6. Chapter Five: I Need You

_Strangely out of place  
There's a light filling this room  
Where none would follow before  
I can't deny it burns me up inside  
I fan the flames to melt  
Away my pride  
Do I want shelter from the rain  
Or the rain to wash me way?  
I need you, I need you, I need you  
I need you, I need you, I need you  
You're all I'm living for  
I might sound like a fool  
But I think I felt you moving  
Closer to me  
Face to the ground  
To hide the fatal cut  
I fight the weight  
I feel you lift me up  
You are the shelter from the rain  
And the rain to wash me away  
I need you, I need you, I need you  
I need you, I need you, I need you  
(All I'm living for)  
I need you, I need you, I need you  
You're all I'm living for  
All I'm living for  
You're all I'm living for  
Face to the ground  
To hide the fatal cut  
I fight the weight  
Feel you lift me up  
Can't deny it burns me up inside  
I fan the flames to melt away  
My pride  
Only had a second to spare  
But all the time in the world  
To know you're there  
You are the shelter from the rain  
And the rain to wash me away  
I need you, I need you, I need you  
(All I'm living for)  
I need you, I need you, I need you  
(All I'm living for)  
& I need you, I need you, I need you  
You're all I'm living for  
All I'm living for  
All I'm living for  
All I'm living for  
You're all I'm living for_

"_**I Need You"  
**__**Jars Of Clay**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Chapter 5  
****I Need You**

"What d'ya think?"

Spike stared at the medium-sized building that was nearly completely constructed. Just a few finishing touches, and it would be real. He looked down at his jeans, fishing for his trusty smokes. He felt strange, seeing himself sans his black leather duster – it had been more than a month since that final fight against the Senior Partners, but at times he still could feel it moving against him.

"I think you need to tell the Council to start buildin' you better facilities – this place won't last a month."

"Shove off, Spike."

"Get stuffed, Faith."

Faith smiled at Spike as he lit up a cigarette. Her jean jacket hid the black tank top she was wearing, her leather pants sitting tightly on her hips. He took several deep puffs as he stood, looking at the new building. It wasn't bad, he had to admit. Anything was better than nothing, right?

"So how soon until we can expect the pitter-patter of Slayer feet?" he asked, turning and walking back towards the house. Faith shrugged, walking with him.

"Not sure. Probably another month or so. Why? It's not like they're gonna invade your privacy – the house is across the street."

"With underground tunnels so that Angel and I can get back and forth – and don't go givin' me this crap line about it bein' for the girls' benefit. You did it so we'd help ya train the bints."

"Of course it's so you can train them," Faith said, opening the front door. "You owe us. So far the best you and Angel have done is clean, and you're not the greatest at that."

"That contraption of yours was ruddy well about to explode," Spike argued, trying to forget a memory from a few weeks ago. "And how do you explain it headin' straight for me, eh? Angel wasn't even touchin' it!"

"Vacuum cleaners move a bit on their own!" Faith argued, steering the two towards the kitchen. "And even then, it was not about to explode – they're _all_ loud and noisy. Did you have to demolish it?"

"It was self defense."

"You threw it down the basement stairs," Angel intruded. Dressed in his trademark all black, he handed Spike a steaming mug. Spike glared over the rim of the cup as he drank. "We're looking forward to training the girls, both of us," Angel said to Faith, who leered at Spike.

"Why, thank you, Angel. It's so nice to have a vampire around the house who's willing to help out in return for food and a place to sleep."

"It's not for those reasons," Angel said quickly, sipping his own mug. Faith looked at him, puzzled. "It's just that if I don't get out of this house soon, I think I'm going to start seeing ghosts again."

"But there haven't been any since…" Faith looked at him hopefully. He smiled.

"Not since Willow did the spell," he reassured her. "So it's been what, three weeks?"

"Almost four," Spike interjected. "Not bad, eh?" Angel smiled.

"I guess not," he said. It had been a long, slow road to recovery. They all knew it. They had all helped as much as they could. But Spike… Angel thought back on the countless times Spike had been the one to really help him. It was strange – the two had been enemies for quite some time now. But now, Spike was helping him, even being… a friend. Angel glanced at his grandchild, smiling to himself.

"So, got anything you need done?" Spike asked.

"There's always demons and vamps; all sorts of beasties to hunt around here," Faith said. "I think Wood's got somethin'; you can ask him."

Spike pushed past Angel, walking farther into the kitchen and sitting at the table. Across from him, Wood was reading through a rather dusty text that appeared to be written in Latin. He had a plate of dinner next to the book, and occasionally he would pick up his fork and eat a few bites before returning his concentration to the pages.

"Whatcha researchin'?" he asked, trying to read upside down. Wood kept reading.

"Marvalin demons – think we might have a small nest over by the elementary school." Spike wrinkled his nose.

"Bad lot, those," he said. Wood eyes looked up. "They have blinding saliva – it gets on you, it works its way into your blood, effectively cuttin' off vision in less than three minutes."

"You've fought Marvalin demons before?" Wood asked. Spike shook his head.

"Nope – but I met a vamp who did once. He was in bad shape after it – never regained his sight, half his face gone – looked like the Phantom of the Opera. Nothing on him ever healed right, either – made me wonder what the hell those demons could do, to make a vamp heal improperly." Spike chanced a fleeting look towards the door – Angel and Faith were listening to him intently. His eyes darted back to Wood. "Apparently, if their blood mixes with yours, even the tiniest bit can have damaging effects – it can kill humans, and it tends to influence healing in vamps and demons. D'ya know what it looks like?"

"Apparently, the person who saw them said they were small – only about two feet tall. Maybe two and a half. Shiny silver skin – long, snake-like tongue darting in and out constantly."

"That's it," Spike said, sounding worried. "Any idea how many?"

"Maybe four or five."

"Shit."

"We can take care of it," Angel said. Spike looked over at him as though he had lost his mind.

"Are you starkers?" Angel looked at him as innocently as possible. Spike stood up, glowering. "I just said this will disfigure us if its blood gets us – its saliva blinds us just as easily as it does _them_. Why should we – "

"We're the only ones who can," Angel said calmly. "You see any others stepping up to take these things on? And they're near a school!"

Spike huffed. He looked down at the ground, frustrated. Faith and Wood simply watched.

"Fine," Spike consented after several moments. He looked up, noticeably angry but resolute in his decision. "Tonight?"

"Tonight," Angel nodded. "Let's gear up."

* * *

Angel sat in the bushes next to Spike, almost cursing his decision to bring the blonde vamp along. "You're not helping me, Spike."

"You haven't given me anythin' to do," Spike argued, leaning back on one arm while he continuously lit and then closed his silver lighter. Angel sighed quietly but made no move to stop him. He decided to go through the supplies they had brought in a small leather bag that had seen much better days. Unzipping it, he rifled through until he found something.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "Where did these come from?" He held up the wrist sheaths he had had made when he first moved to LA – they held spring loaded stakes that had saved his life many times. Spike looked at the contraptions, shrugging.

"Search me," he said casually. Angel's smile dimmed slightly, but he resumed his search as Spike sat next to him, still playing with his lighter. After a few moments, Angel spoke again.

"This seems right, doesn't it?" Spike looked at him, curious.

"What?"

"This," Angel half shrugged, looking at the man he had once considered his prodigy. "Ya know, the two of us…"

Spike's eyes widened. He was sure he was hearing wrong – it almost sounded as though Angel was really and truly happy to be around him, even if it was simply for hunting and killing a small nest of demons. "What do you mean, us?" he asked cautiously.

"Ya know…" Angel prompted. Spike still stared at him. "Just… you and me… I mean…" Angel fumbled over his words for a moment, his eyes dropping to the ground between them. He scooted himself a bit closer to Spike and looked back up at him. "We were such good friends… sort of… and we enjoyed each other's company… sort of… and I could always talk to you…" Angel frowned as he realized that none of what he was saying was particularly true. One of Spike's eyebrows perked.

"Angel, who are you trying to kid?" he asked. Angel bit his lower lip and looked away. "We were never close friends – we pretty much just tolerated each other. You tolerated me because I was Drusilla's plaything, and I tolerated you because you were her daddy-dearest." Spike saw the hurt and anguish flashing in Angel's eyes and immediately felt angry with himself for ever having said that.

"You're right, of course," Angel whispered. Spike shook his head.

"I shouldn't have," he started, but Angel cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"No, no, I needed to hear it. I needed that reminder. We weren't good friends – and we never really cared about each other. But, times change." He paused.

"Angel?" Spike prompted, hoping that he would hear the few words he desperately wanted right then.

"I want to make it up to you – everything, all the times I ignored you, or hurt you – I want to make it right between us." Spike felt his heart leaping at what he was hearing. He gave Angel a shy sort of half smile.

"Glad to hear, it mate. I uh, I think I'd like that too." Angel grinned.

"Think we should go find these Marvalin demons now?" he asked. Spike nodded.

"You got my back, right?"

"Of course," came the reply.

* * *

"You didn't warn me about the spikes, _Spike_."

"I forgot, ya bloody ponce. But we still destroyed them – so why are you complaining?"

"I don't like going into a fight without all the knowledge I need."

"That's what you get for stickin' me with the research bit – now shut up and hand me that damn whiskey."

Angel jerked his hand out of reach as Spike swiped for the bottle of Jack Daniels, scowling at his grandsire. "You've had plenty," Angel told him as he lay on his left side. Spike was shirtless, with several thin, spindly black spines poking between his ribs. In front of him, Faith smiled.

"Damn, can you two go a month without some serious injury?" she asked. Spike glowered at her and Angel rolled his eyes. Wood walked up behind her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Looks like a hell of a removal procedure," he stated. He glanced up and caught Angel's eyes. "Care for some help?"

"Bugger that!" Spike shouted, catching them all off guard. "I'm not lettin' any of you do anythin' to me – I'll get these things out my - self!"

"Spike, you can't do it yourself," Angel argued. "These things expand once embedded in flesh – and they keep expanding until they kill you."

"You're. Not. Doin' it," Spike told him flatly. "And I don't want Wood in the same room even when I get these things out."

"We don't have time for your petty squabbles, Spike!" Angel raged. "He's going to help me, and you're going to lay there and deal with it!"

"You can't – " Spike was cut off by Faith's fist connecting with his mouth. He blinked several times, groaning at the renewed pain that coursed throughout his body.

"Think it hurts now?" Faith asked. He stared at her in disbelief. "Just think of how it will feel five minutes from now when those things have gotten even bigger." He looked down at the table underneath him, frowning. Finally, he looked up, staring at Angel.

"Get these things outta me," he menaced. "I don't fancy her hittin' me all night until I pass out."

Faith looked up at Angel and Wood. "I think the patient's prepped and ready for surgery, doc." Angel nodded his thanks before turning to Wood.

"We're gonna need all the first aid supplies you've got – and maybe anything else that looks useful in this."

Wood nodded softly. "I'll get the pliers."

"That's not funny!" Spike roared at his backside as Wood walked out of the room just behind Faith. "You bring pliers in here and I'll rip your eyes out and make ya eat 'em over toast!"

"Still as creative as ever, eh Spike?" Angel asked, moving around the table to see if he had missed anything else that needed mending. The skin surrounding the spines was bruised and horribly swollen, though Angel was sure that at least half the swelling was the spikes that had expanded inside his grandchild's body. He noticed that Spike was now shaking slightly, sharp breaths coming rapidly. "Spike?"

"I'm fine, 'Gelus," he heard Spike say in a shaky voice. "Just don't greatly fancy havin' these things in me much longer, 's all." Angel nodded behind him, knowing that Spike was crying, though he was doing his damnedest not to let him know. For a moment, the thought occurred that he should comfort him, wipe the tears away, let him know that he, the mighty Angel, would let nothing happen to him anymore. But he brushed the thought out of his mind quickly, choosing instead to let his boy continue to believe he was putting up a tough front.

"OK," Wood appeared in the doorway again, carrying three car sized first aid kits. "Two of these are actual first aid supplies, and one of them is a bunch of medical supplies I still have from the fight against The First. Hope it's enough." Angel nodded, his eyes still resting on the now still form of Spike. The curtains were back in place – time for the actor to put on his signature performance.

"Right," Spike said, looking up at Wood. "Let's get this over with, shall we? I don't bloody well feel like layin' here all night while you two dissect me. I want these damn things out – now."

"Patience is a virtue, Spike," Angel said tiredly as he took one of the boxes from Wood. "Course, you never were one for patience, were you?" He heard Spike huff slightly as he opened up the box to find a few syringes and several small bottles of liquid pain medications. He selected one of the bottles and filled a syringe. "Now, this is going to hurt, but if you move, it'll hurt worse," Angel warned him, placing a hand gently on Spike's side, which seemed to be one solid bruise. Spike took in a calming breath, which he held as Angel inserted the needle and injected its contents.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered as Angel pulled the needle out again. He felt a small cotton swab wiping gently at the spot the needle had been. He was beginning to feel better though – the pain was starting to seep away, and he felt slightly euphoric. "Mmm," he purred. "I feel better."

"That's the medication talking," Angel told him as he pulled out a small scalpel. He looked at Wood and exhaled harshly. "Ready?"

"As much as I can be," Wood replied. Angel nodded, looking back at Spike's side.

"Here goes nothing," he whispered.

* * *

"I hate you, you know."

"Spike…"

"Don't you dare _Spike_ me!" Angel bit his lip to keep from grinning as he sat on the couch on the living room next to the blonde vampire. "You're – you're a right ponce, you are."

"As opposed to a left ponce?" Angel teased. He was enjoying himself immensely. He was wearing his pajamas, and his hair was limp and slightly wet from the shower he had taken minutes before. Spike also wore his pajama pants, but his abdomen was wrapped in bandages due to the sudden surgery the night before and he had not wanted to put on a shirt – he had claimed it made him move which hurt too much.

"Bugger this," he said, glaring as he pushed himself off the couch. Angel stood quickly, worried he may have hurt himself by moving so fast.

"Spike, you can't move that way – you have to be slow, careful."

"Sod off," Spike told him, sticking a finger in his face. "You – you don't get to tell me what to do," he said, poking Angel's cheek. "I don't have to listen to you."

"I think I gave you too much of that medication."

"Yeah, now look at me – poor Spike. Doesn't know what's to do," Spike ranted, stumbling away from Angel. The older vampire stepped towards him, concerned. "I just…" Spike sniffed. "I just want to be home," he said.

"You are home," Angel told, slightly confused. "This is where we live."

"No!" Spike said angrily. "No, this is not home – home is… home is where your heart is." Angel looked down.

"You mean Italy – where Buffy is." The two were silent for a few moments before Angel spoke again. "I know – I wish we could go there too. I wish we could both show her – "

"No!" Spike shouted again, cutting Angel off. Angel looked at him in surprise. "Not bloody Italy, and definitely not anywhere in soddin' Europe! I mean..." Spike shook his head. "I know where my heart is, Angel. But I can't ever be home there." Angel's eyes widened, still confused.

"Spike – what are you talking about?"

"I knew you'd never understand," Spike sneered. "How could you? My heart – my heart is here, Angel." Angel's expression changed – he had a feeling he knew what Spike was really saying.

"Spike, you know it could never work." This time it was Spike who looked confused.

"And why the bloody hell not?" he asked.

"You know why – you know; if you look deep down inside and really weigh everything, you know it would never work."

"But I want it to," Spike whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I've wanted it for a long time."

Angel looked up at the ceiling. He sighed, trying to figure out exactly what to say to Spike that would make him realize the truth.

"Spike…" Angel looked back at the blonde and immediately got quiet, watching sadly as a few more tears escaped Spike's eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

"Angel, I – " Spike winced suddenly, grabbing his side. "Oh, I don't feel well. Angel…"

"What is it?" Angel took a step forward, worry etched all over his face. "Spike?"

"Angel, I really don't fee – eeeeel…" Spike fell forward as Angel rushed towards him, catching him and holding him close to his chest. He looked into Spike's face, seeing pain and anguish. "I think I need to go to bed," Spike told him quietly.

Angel said nothing. He supported Spike through the hallway, down the stairs, and into bed. Spike lay on his back, his eyelids fluttering madly as he tried to keep consciousness.

"I…" Spike whispered. He grabbed Angel's hand tightly, almost desperately. "I have to… I love…"

Angel strained to hear what Spike was saying as he passed out. But Spike said no more, and Angel let go of his hand as he pulled a blanket up over him. He looked around, finding a plastic chair and setting it next to the cot. He watched Spike with a concern he had only experienced over one person before – Buffy. As he sat there in the dark basement, he regarded Spike and knew that somehow, he was in love with the poet in front of him.

For the next hour, he neither moved nor looked away from Spike. It was not until he heard the front door opening and footsteps above him that he stood, wrenching his gaze away from Spike. He walked back up the stairs, closing the door quietly behind him.

"How is he?"

Angel saw Faith and Wood walking towards him

"He's sleeping," Angel told them. "I think I gave him too much of that medication though – he was a little…"

"Out of it?" Wood offered. Angel nodded.

"Kept talking about home, and his heart, and love… I think…" He looked at Faith directly. "I think he's in love with you – or at least, he thinks he is." Faith snorted. "What?" Angel asked defensively.

"You're dense, man," Faith told him with a grin. Angel glared at her.

"I'm dense?"

"It's so obvious he's not into me," she told him confidently. "And you're not just dense, you're a dumbass is you think you can prove otherwise."

"I've got plenty of proof!" Angel told her. "He's always had an obsession with Slayers. Sure, at first it was killing them, but then with Buffy, he fell for her. He told me the only thing better than killing one was fu– "

"Whoa, back up slowly with your hands behind your head," Faith told him. "I've never in my life wanted to do anything resembling that with Spike, or any vampire for that matter. And Spike is in no way interested in me." Angel crossed his arms in front of him. "You really haven't figured it out, have you?" she asked him.

"Figured what out?" Angel asked innocently. Faith bit her lip as she watched him, her eyes narrowing as though looking for something she thought she could find. After a few moments, she shook her head.

"If you don't know, I can't help you," she told him. His arms dropped to the side as she walked past him into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. He stared at the door.

"Did – did I do something?" Angel asked as Wood walked up behind him, chuckling.

"Welcome to the question I find myself asking _all_ the time," he told Angel. Angel nodded.

"Patrolling went well?"

"Slayed a few vamps – nothing real exciting."

"Any more reports of demons nesting in the area?"

"Nothing yet – why, you itching for a good fight already?"

Angel shrugged. "Guess you could say that. I've just been so useless lately – I mean, Spike and I got here and within the first week or so you had to call in a witch from halfway across the globe, clean up all the messes I made when my sudden 'spiritual crises' hit, help get me back into physical and mental health, and now you've got the new Slayer School starting up in a month. Guess I just feel like, well… like there's more that I can do. More that I should have done already." Wood placed a gentle hand on Angel's shoulders, causing him to turn and look at the man behind him.

"Don't worry – once school's in session, there will be plenty of work for ten of us – and there's only gonna be four. We're it. So trust me when I say that you'll have lots of opportunities to make up for lost time." Angel gave a half smile as wood walked around him and into his bedroom. Angel sighed before heading back to the basement.

As he took up his post next to Spike's bed again, he noticed that the blonde vampire seemed to have calmed a bit – he looked peaceful, happy. Like an innocent.

"My dearest William," he whispered as Spike slept. "How I wish I could take back so much of what has happened to you. Even the things I'm not responsible for. I wish I could just tell you what I'm feeling right now, because it's going to consume me if I don't say it eventually. But for now…" Angel ran a hand through his hair as he sucked in a deep, unneeded breath and let it out slowly. "I love you. How I just wish you would love me in return."

* * *

"Angel?" Spike's sleep slurred voice roused Angel from his position on the small plastic chair, which looked very uncomfortable and had provided a severe stiffness throughout his entire body.

"I'm here, Will," he yawned, stretching carefully as Spike sat up slowly. "How are you?"

"Feel like the world's biggest pin cushion," he said. "But I do feel a bit better than before."

"Good," Angel said earnestly. He noticed that Spike's hair was rather untidy, and smiled slightly.

"What?" Spike asked quickly, frowning at his grandsire's grin. "I'm not some weird color, am I? Am I still pretty?"

"You're perfect," Angel said. Spike's eyebrows perked up and he looked inquisitively at Angel.

"Perfect?"

"No," Angel quickly said. "N-no, not perfect. Horrible. Te-terrible, in fact. And I think the medication is still affecting you because I never said perfect – "

"Relax, mate," Spike told him. "I'm on'y tryin' to get a rise outta ya. Though it looks like someone beat me to it…"

Angel looked down at his lap and quickly grabbed a blanket, looking quite embarrassed, which only made Spike grin even more.

"Happy dreams of a pretty little blonde with a collar and a leash?" Spike asked as he swung his legs over the side of his bed. Angel glowered at him.

"Nina is – "

"I know, she's a werewolf. I'm just wonderin', what's that pretty little poodle doin' now that Wolfram & Hart aren't around? She find another kennel to stay at or is she house trained?"

"I…" Angel sighed. "I don't know."

Spike scowled. "But you want to know, don't ya?" Angel shrugged.

"I led her on," he said softly. "It was never…"

"Serious?" Spike asked.

"I was gonna go with love, but yeah – never serious. She had real feelings for me. But I couldn't honestly feel that way about her. So I sent her away."

"What?" Spike asked.

"I sent her and her family to Mexico for a vacation." Spike laughed.

"So you broke up with her and sent her on vacation?" he asked. Angel looked down at the floor. "Oh no," Spike shook his head, his laughter starting up again. "You never broke up with her – so what, she's just waiting for you to meet her there?"

"She was," Angel nodded, still looking at the floor. "I told her if I survived the fight against the Senior Partners, I'd come for her."

"And you told her that knowing there was damn near no chance you'd make it out alive," Spike said calmly. Angel nodded again. Spike looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. "You're a right fucker, you are."

"I know," Angel said. "But I had to do that. Now she can believe whatever she wants. And it's not like I'm going back to California anytime soon. Besides, I need to be here – I need to be with you."

"What?" Spike gasped.

"I need you, Spike – you're the one person I really trust now. Faith and Wood are great, but… you're blood."

Spike smiled. "I know the feelin' mate – I need you around too." Angel beamed.

"If Buffy could see us now, huh?" Spike shrugged.

"Who cares, I say. She's with The Immortal now – Angel breath was bad enough. Immortal breath has got to be hell."

"Yeah," Angel chuckled. His face suddenly clouded. "Wait, _Angel breath_?" Spike smiled innocently.

"So, what've we got in the fridge?"

* * *

**A/N**: Wow, look at this! I'm leaving an author note! Go me! **_Dances_**

Sorry it has taken so long to update – this chapter was just irking me. It felt like I'd write five paragraphs, and then erase four of them because they weren't doing what I wanted. So please, know that I love you all so very much and I will try not to take so long with the next chapter. _**Hugs you**_ Also, I've had 1 or 2 (hundred) ideas pop into my head over the past few days, and it seems like I'm trying to at least flesh out the ideas so that hopefully I can turn them into stories or incorporate them into this one. So bear with me – my mind does not always (or ever) run at a normal speed. It's usually going about Warp 10 (**woot!**Star Trek). So please, be patient and love me anyway?

OK, thank-you's (no particular order!) – **MelantheVida**, **Shinodabear**, **SpikingJennsAngel**, & **MarieP** – you all have left me the most reviews, and I appreciate it so much! You have also inspired me with your own writings, and in a way, helped me to come into the glorious world of SPANGEL! Love you guys!

Now, onto the topic I want to cover - I know, I know, still no Spangel smoochies. But they are coming, I promise. Just bear with me – I'm building it up until you can no longer stand it. And I think you will be happy when it does happen. I know **I** really like the scene (I already have it written, but you must wait for it! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!). So, please, do not give up on me yet, gentle viewers… or… gentle readers… yeah.

I promise, the time for Spangel smoochie goodness is nearly upon us. And then, I get to tease you with the idea of Spangel shagging! Mwah ha ha ha haaaa! Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter Six: Walk Away

_No time to register the words you say,  
As I am stepping over you,  
And it's a sad state of affairs  
Don't even pretend we're not aware, and turned cold...  
Walk Away  
Untouched  
I can't relate to anyone  
I try to be, a humble man, a better son, a better friend  
But life gets in the way  
No time to register, the shame I feel  
As I try not to notice you  
And it's a sad state of affairs,  
To ignore this wrongness everywhere  
Turned cold...  
Walk Away  
Untouched  
I can't relate to anyone  
I try to be a humble man, a better son, a better friend  
But life gets in the way  
It's the way, we silence our senses  
A way, to smother the impulses  
Suffocate the senses  
Suffocate the impulse  
We bury pain and tramp the dirt down  
Walk Away  
Untouched  
I can't relate to anyone  
I try to be a humble man, a better son, a better friend  
But life gets in the way  
I try to be a humble man, a better son, a better friend,  
But life gets in the way...the way..._

"_**Walk Away"  
**__**Epidemic**_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 6  
****Walk Away**

"So…"

"It starts tomorrow, doesn't it?"

"Yep – no more peace and quiet; no more time for us to _relax_."

"No more time to read."

Spike perked a scared eyebrow at Angel. "Who gives a piss about readin', mate?" The two of them were seated at the small kitchen table in the early evening. Spike was dressed in a skin tight maroon t-shirt with long sleeves and loose fitting blue jeans. Angel was also wearing loose jeans, but had donned a forest green button up shirt. He looked up slowly from the book in front of him and stared at Spike.

"Care to rephrase that?" he asked. Spike shrugged.

"Not actually," he said, grinning. Angel shook his head slightly and returned to his reading. Spike watched him tentatively for a few moments before breaking the silence between them. "Oh, come on then Angel! I'm bored, an' this is our last night of freedom! Last night to do whatever the hell we want! It's almost like… almost like we're gettin' married tomorrow!"

"What?" Angel asked suddenly, looking up again. He gave Spike an inquisitorial stare. "What are you talking about?"

"Tomorrow!" Spike said, waving a hand about. "Grand opening!" Angel still stared. "The Slayer Academy!" Spike continued, almost angry.

"What about it?" Angel asked. Spike's hand dropped to his side and he regarded his grandsire with annoyance.

"We're going to be training the girls," Spike reminded him.

"I'm well aware of that, Spike," Angel said dismissively as he turned his face back to his book. Spike slapped a hand down on the page.

"So I don't much feel like sittin' around watchin' you read all bloody night," he growled. Angel closed his eyes and waited. Spike didn't move.

"So go out and find something to do, Spike," Angel told him calmly, opening his eyes again and gazing into Spike's blue orbs – they had taken a slightly gray tint, as though the very sky had formed within them and was threatening rain. Or in Spike's case, a major thunderstorm that was likely to knock out power for several days.

"Angel…" Spike whined. The older vampire threw his head back, sighing in exasperation.

"Fine," he conceded. "Where do you want to go?" Spike beamed at him, the storm clearing instantly.

"That's a bit more like it."

* * *

"Why are we here, Spike?"

"Because we're goin' to enjoy our last night as free men," Spike told him before throwing his head back and swallowing a double shot of whiskey. Angel frowned at his own shot glass.

"What if I just wanted to read at home?" he asked.

"You don't know what the real meanin' of fun is, do you?" Spike asked, knocking back another double shot. Angel glared at him.

"I had more fun in my nearly twenty-six years as a mortal man than you've had in your entire unlife," he said, quickly downing his shot and setting the glass down on the counter. Spike's eyes lit up.

"Care to show me what kind of fun you 'ad?" he asked. Angel snorted.

"I'd need a woman and you'd need at least four notebooks." Spike frowned a bit.

"What would I need notebooks for?" he asked, taking another shot. Angel grinned and took another drink.

"Because I'd show you more than you could ever have hoped to learn by now," Angel told him. Spike chuckled.

"Is that so?" he asked as Angel had another drink. Angel nodded. A fast paced tune started up, followed quickly by a horrible singer. Spike and Angel glanced from their spots at the bar to the stage.

"Karaoke," Angel murmured. He laughed to himself. "It had to be karaoke night."

"What's wrong with karaoke?" Spike asked as they turned back to the bar, where their next round of drinks were ready for them. Angel shook his head.

"Lorne," he said, picking up the small glass and looking at it. "I met him at a karaoke bar. _His_ karaoke bar, actually."

"Really?" Spike asked. "Interesting."

"It's how we became friends," Angel said. "I needed help, I sang for him, he gave me advice. And then I sorta helped destroy his bar and he came to live with me."

"And I'm going to guess that the first thing you ever sang for him was by Barry Manilow," Spike said, swallowing his drink. Angel licked his lips.

"Mandy," he nodded. Spike rolled his eyes. "What?" Angel asked. Spike crinkled his nose. "It's a good song!"

"No," Spike told him slowly, "_Come Together_ is a good song."

"The Beatles?" Angel asked. Spike nodded. "But I don't know the words…"

"You're pathetic," Spike laughed. "I bet you never sang a song you didn't know!"

"Like _you_ could," Angel muttered, staring at the bar's surface. Spike gave a half shrug.

"I will if you want me to," he said. Angel's brow furrowed, and he looked at Spike out of the corner of his eye.

"You'll what?"

"I'll sing if ya want – any song you pick. Except…" Spike thought for a moment. "OK, it has to be something rock 'n' roll – no Britney… Aguilera or Jessica whats-her-name…"

"Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Jessica Simpson," Angel told him. Spike covered his mouth as he laughed. Angel closed his eyes. "That's Buffy's fault," he said through gritted teeth as Spike continued laughing at him. "She listened to them."

"Yeah, and I'm sure you really objected, mate," Spike snickered. Angel glared at him.

"If you don't stop laughing you'll find holy water in your blood tonight," he menaced. Spike shoved his shoulder.

"You wouldn't dare, and you know it," Spike said. "Now pick somethin', quick."

Angel thought for a moment, then smiled. "OK, Spike – I know just the song."

* * *

"Are you talking to me yet?" Angel looked across the table at Spike, who sat quietly sipping his mug of coffee and looking anywhere other than at Angel. Angel smiled. "Guess not." Still, Spike was silent. "It's not like it was that bad though, Spike."

Spike looked down at his white tank top, noticing a small coffee stain on it. He sighed irritably and stood up. Angel watched him walk to the kitchen sink and take his top off, rinsing it a bit under the water to see if it would come out. He realized he was staring rather dreamily at Spike's back and quickly looked away, hoping that Spike hadn't noticed.

"Bugger," Spike muttered under his breath, scratching at the stain. Frustrated, he turned the water off and strode out of the room.

"It was only Michael Bolton!" Angel called after him, smiling triumphantly. He heard the door to the basement slam in return. He chuckled to himself as he stood up, grabbing his bath towel off a neighboring chair and heading into the bathroom for a shower.

After he had finished, he opened the door to find Spike standing in front of him. "Can I do something for you, Spike?" Angel asked sweetly. Spike said nothing and pushed past him into the bathroom, shoving him out of the way as he slammed the door. The shower started up, and Angel shrugged as he headed into the basement.

He dressed in dark jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He toweled his hair one last time and tossed it into the small hamper he and Spike shared just as the blonde made his way down the steps. Angel caught himself staring again as a few small drops of water rolled casually down Spike's well defined stomach. He turned abruptly, trying to find a pair of socks and his shoes. As he grabbed a pair or white socks with thin blue stripes in them, he heard Spike let out a frustrated sigh.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning around. Spike had put on a pair of black jeans, but was still shirtless. The blonde vampire had turned his head to glare at Angel, but still said nothing as he continued rummaging through his clothes. Angel frowned, but returned to his socks. He slipped them on, grabbing a pair of plain white walking shoes and shoving them on his feet. He turned and walked across the room, past Spike and to a door that had been a recent addition in the basement. It led into the underground tunnel that connected the Slayer's school with the basement and condo that Faith and Wood owned. His hand had just touched the knob when –

"You're a fucker." Angel turned and glowered at Spike, who's scowl was set just as hard.

"You told me to – "

"But you knew!" Spike shouted. Angel was taken aback. "You knew! All along!"

"What?" Angel asked. "Spike, it was just Michael Bolton…"

"I'm not angry about _that_!" Spike roared. He slipped into his vamp face. "I'm angry because you know – you know how I feel! And _still_ you made me sing that damned song!"

"Spike, what are you talking about?"

"The other day," Spike said, pacing now. "When I was all sixes and sevens after that medication took effect. I told you I… I love…"

"Oh," Angel said quietly. "Yeah, you, uh… you never said who but I guessed."

"And you couldn't at least tell me you knew?" Spike asked. He shifted back to his human visage, clutching tightly to a black t-shirt. "You couldn't at least tell me you figured out…"

"Spike, it's not a big deal – "

"It is!" he yelled. "It is, Angel!"

"So you have a thing for Faith!" Angel shouted back. This time it was Spike who looked taken aback. "So what? She's with Wood, and as long as you understand that, you'll be fine!" Spike pursed his lips.

"You… you think… Faith?" Spike asked. Angel nodded.

"It fits your whole Slayer obsession," Angel told him, waving his hands emphatically. Spike nodded.

"So you've, told her… I guess?"

"Yeah," Angel told him. "She thought I was crazy." Spike nodded again, sinking onto his bed as his gaze hit the floor.

"Well… good. I mean, it's not like… well, you know… she's with Wood… and…" Spike inhaled to calm himself and smiled, looking back up at Angel. "Well. I feel better then."

"So you'll talk to me and act like we're friends?" Angel asked, smirking. Spike shrugged.

"I guess," he said, pulling his shirt over his head. "Sorry – about earlier. Ya know, slammin' doors and what not." Angel nodded.

"We should get over there – Faith said we had some set up to do before the girls got here later." Spike smiled.

"Think we're really ready for this?" he asked. "Trainin' girls to fight an' kill our kind?" Angel shrugged.

"You've done more of that than I have. But yeah, I think we are."

"God, I hope you're right."

Once Spike ha finished dressing, the two made their way through the tunnel and up a small set of stairs. They paused just before the door.

"Here goes nothing," Spike muttered under his breath. Angel nodded and turned the doorknob, pushing it open.

"'Bout damn time!"

Faith stood in front of the door with a large plastic bin full of all sorts of weapons – most of them wooden stakes. Spike looked at them with raised eyebrows.

"Not exactly the welcome we were hopin' for, pet," he told her, looking back up at her. She smiled.

"Then maybe you should have been here earlier," she told him sweetly before shoving the box into his hands. "The small weapons go over by that set of windows – don't worry, their safe." Spike and Angel peered over at the windows in question. The sunlight was streaming in brightly, the blinds rolled up so that there was no shade. The two vampires looked back at the Slayer before them.

"Did we piss you off?" Angel asked. She chuckled and began to walk away. Spike shook his head.

"You could at least put the blinds down for us, ya crazy bint!" he called after her. She waved back to him to let him know she had heard, but continued on her path.

"Well…" Angel started. Spike shrugged.

"Guess we better start thinkin' of a plan to get these things over there," he said. Angel nodded.

"Yeah… I could run like hell," he suggested.

"Normally this is the part where I'd argue and say I'm better at that than you are," Spike said, looking back down at the weapons, "but in this case I'll let you have your way." Suddenly he shoved the box into Angel's arms and stalked off after Faith. Angel stared after him, slightly angry.

"Come back!" he called after Spike. "Argue with me, just this once!"

* * *

"Faith, we have got to work on communication."

"Angel, you eventually figured out that the windows are necro-tempered. What's the problem?"

Angel sat in one of several small offices that bordered the main training area, a mug of blood in his hands. He frowned at Faith, who was perched on the desk in front of him. "I figured it out after an hour! Those are floor to ceiling windows! How was I supposed to know they were necro-tempered? Besides," he said, taking a sip from his cup, "where'd the council get the idea to do that?"

"Wolfram & Hart, actually," Faith told him. "heard about it, asked about it – since you're here. Told Giles you'd be helping me train the girls. Thought it would be the best idea." Angel nodded.

"Thanks… I think," he said softly. She grinned.

"No problem. So, we all ready?"

Spike poked his head in the doorway. "Uh, there's a big blue bus here – "

"That'll be them," Faith said, sounding genuinely excited. "You guys ready?" Spike smiled brightly.

"So long as I don't get staked, I'll be fine," he said.

"Let's go then," Faith said, standing. Angel followed and soon the three of them were standing in a small foyer with bright white walls and at least twenty five young girls, all of them wearing a different expression. Wood stood in front of them, checking of names as he called them.

"Well, looks like someone fancies himself the boss," Spike mused quietly. "Right back into the roll of principal, ay?"

"He's good at it," Faith whispered as the girls continued answering to their names. "Besides, we have enough to worry about – he knows who's really in charge."

"Good," Angel told her softly.

"They're ready, Faith." Wood turned to her and smiled slightly. She nodded and stepped forward.

"Hey guys, my name's Faith. Welcome to Slayer Academy. Any questions before we begin?" A girl with her blonde hair in braided pigtails near the right side of the crowd raised her hand quickly. Faith looked at her. "Yes?"

"Donna Driscoll," she introduced herself. She stepped forward – she was dressed as any typical high school girl would be – blue jeans, a light purple fitted t-shirt, and the latest sneakers. On one shoulder she had a black book bag. "I was just wondering – who are those two?" she asked, nodding at Spike and Angel. Faith smiled.

"That will be explained later," she said. "But don't worry – they don't bite." A few girls snickered and Donna stepped back into the crowd. "Any others?"

Another young girl raised her hand this time – she was directly in front. She wore a pair of platform high heels and black dress slacks, along with a black tank top. Her brown hair was pulled back into a small ponytail. Faith acknowledged her with a nod.

"Marie Tab," she said confidently. "Exactly what are we going to be doing – I mean, I understand the concept of vampires, and vampire slayers. But… when does all that happen? When do we actually go out and start fighting these things?"

"When the four of us," Faith gestured to Spike and Angel, herself, and Wood, "feel you're ready. Any others?" No one else raised their hands. "Good. Time for the tour."

Spike and Angel followed silently behind the girls as Faith and Wood led them through the building, showing them where everything was. A few girls chanced glances back at them, but said nothing. Spike sighed.

"This place is too… clean," he muttered to Angel. Angel took in the gleaming white walls and fresh carpet. He had to agree.

"Won't be for long," he whispered back. "I give it a week before there's blood on at least three of the walls in that training room." Spike nodded.

"And this brings us back into the main training area," Faith's voice floated back to them. "Now, you'll see all the tables set up – that's for homework. Every day after school, you'll come in here and start on your homework. Once it's finished, we train. No exceptions. Got it?" There was a soft humming as the girls all agreed to the terms. "Great. Get to it." The band of girls broke into small groups, each finding seats and digging through their bags. Soon, the only sound that could be heard was the scratching of pens and pencils as the girls worked. Faith and Wood walked into an office, where Spike and Angel followed.

Faith closed the door behind them quietly. "So, here's my plan," she said. "Tonight we go out for a quick patrol. Show 'em what it's like."

"But you two are going to break off from us at one point," Wood stepped in, looking at Angel and Spike as the two leaned against the desk. "You two are going to be the attackers."

"And you're sure that no one else will be out in that particular graveyard?" Angel asked.

"Every time we've ever been in that cemetery, it's been dead," Faith said.

"Well, thank you Captain Obvious," Spike told her. "I'm guessing that none of the dead tried comin' up to say hi?"

"Nope," Faith said. "Got these made," she changed the subject, pulling out a plastic replica of a wooden stake. "Spring loaded – won't even stab ya. No chance of an accident." Spike reached out and took the practice weapon from Faith's hands. He examined it, playing a bit, before turning to Angel and jamming the thing at his chest. Angel looked down at Spike's hand, then back up at him.

"Having fun?" he asked. Spike grinned.

"Plenty." Angel reached up and took the weapon from Spike.

"OK. So, are we thinking just after sunset? Maybe leave any real slaying for the weekend?" Wood nodded.

"Yeah – don't wanna keep them all out too late on their first night," he said. "But we need to cover basic defenses and strikes first."

"And aim," Spike put in. "I don't fancy some girly whackin' on me until she thinks she's got it right."

"Spike's got a point," Angel said. "These girls are strong enough, they could really do something if they aren't careful. And most of them have probably never seen a real vampire before. They're gonna get hysterical when they see us."

"Hence the plastic and springs," Faith said. "But you're right – they need to be able to find the heart without a big red bull's-eye. I'll call Giles tomorrow – see what we can do."

"And in the meantime," Spike said, sauntering over to the small office window and pulling back the curtain, "it's slay time."

* * *

"OK." Spike peered from behind a rather large monument at the girls that Faith had with her. She and Wood had decided it would be best to spilt the large group up, and Spike had opted to go with Faith – he had a feeling that a real wooden stake could very easily slip into Wood's group had he been the vamp to accompany them. So, Faith it was. He and Angel had decided to spilt up immediately upon entering the graveyard.

"Oh, this will be fun," he whispered as he thought back on the introductions Faith had given for him and Angel. She had conveniently left out the part where she told the girls they were vampires. She had said it would be best for them to find that out on their own.

" – So, three girls per team. Who wants to go first?" Spike watched as three girls very cautiously stepped forward. "Great – Sarah, Liz, and… Holly?" The girls nodded eagerly. Spike closed his eyes as he heard Faith giving directives on how to sweep through the cemetery. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

"They're afraid," he murmured. "I used to love it when they were afraid. Used to love it so much…"

"Alright, move out girls," Faith instructed. Spike smiled and peered back to see the three of them huddled together as they walked. Faith and the larger group of girls followed a ways behind, just keeping them in sight. Spike shifted into his game face – this was gonna be fun.

* * *

"There's three of you, one of him!" Wood shouted on the other side of the cemetery as a young Asian girl, an African-American girl, and the blonde girl who had introduced herself as Donna earlier fought against Angel. "Use your numbers to your – "

Wood jumped back as Angel sent one of the girls stumbling back into the crowd. " – advantage," Wood sighed as he helped the girl back into the fight. The girls' attacks were hard, strong, but Angel could almost scent their every thought.

"You guys – " he said, smiling, " – are making – this way too – EASY!" He grabbed one of the girls and threw her into one of her companions, then turned on the last one. "Donna, right?" he asked, his vamp face sneering. "Haven't had a Slayer in a while," he said, advancing on her. She stood rooted to the spot. "Isn't this the part where you should pull out your weapon?" The girl's eyes widened and she looked down at her sides as she frantically scrambled to retrieve her stake. Angel laughed quietly and she looked back up to see him holding her stake in his hands.

The other two girls had gotten back up, and Angel turned to them, his yellow eyes glinting slightly. "Ready for more?" he asked, making a big show of smelling the air. "Because I'm not even breathing hard yet."

"But…" He turned back to see one of the girls in the larger group behind Wood looking at him, confused. "I thought vampires didn't breathe?"

* * *

"Usually, they don't," Faith explained to her larger group as Spike battled the second group of Slayers. "But sometimes, they will, simply out of reflex or out of basic habit. When you're human, you have to breathe. Even after becoming a vampire, it's a hard habit to break at times."

"Aarrrrgh!" Spike howled, landing a punch that sent one girl sprawling onto a grave marker. She hit the slab of rock hard, coughing.

"Come on!" he taunted the other two, panting slightly. "That all ya got?" They circled around him and he licked his lips. "I know there's more…" He trailed off as something caught his nose – the scent of someone he knew… but he couldn't quite place it.

"Wait," he said, waving a hand at the two Slayers still standing against him. He lifted his nose higher into the air, trying to sort it out amongst every other odor in the area. He glanced at Faith, then ran to another large monument. In one leap, he was perched at the top, looking down and sniffing. Faith jogged over to him.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. Spike took one last sniff before looking down to her.

"Something's here."

* * *

"We need to regroup." Angel was back to his human look, talking with Wood. "There's something else out here." Wood nodded.

"OK. We all move as a group," he turned to the Slayers. "Do not wander off alone. We need to find Faith and her group – "

"Already here," Spike's voice interrupted as the band of girls and Faith came into view. Spike looked at Angel. "Ready?" Angel grinned.

"Always," he said. The two glanced at Faith and Wood before quickly moving off from the group.

"Is there really something else here?" Angel heard one of the girls ask.

"Guess we'll find out," was Wood's reply.

Spike and Angel quickly stalked through the cemetery, making as little noise as possible. As they came to the entrance, they noticed a car parked at the gates.

"What demon you know drives a car to the cemetery?" Spike asked.

"One from out of town," Angel answered. He pointed to a small sticker on the bumper. "Rental."

"Bloody hell," Spike shook his head. "Well, looks like we'd better get a move on. Paired or split?"

"Let's stick together," Angel said. "Better odds if there's more than one." Spike nodded, smiling inwardly. "Let's go." As the two began tracking their prey, they fell into a companionable silence. After a few minutes, Spike grabbed Angel's hand. Various sensations flitted through his mind at that touch, but he shoved them back. Now was not the time to become the sappy, love sick poet he had once been. Now was the time for his demon to show itself.

"What is it?" Angel whispered. Spike looked to the right. There was definitely something over there, crouched behind a headstone.

"I think we found it," Spike whispered back. The two silently made their way towards the beast, which remained cloaked in shadow. When they were just a few feet behind it, Spike shifted his face. As he glanced at Angel, he saw that the elder vampire had done the same. Angel held up one finger, then two. On three, they pounced.

"Raaahrrr!" Spike growled as he and Angel grabbed the intruder and yanked him into the light. "Got ya now, you…." He stopped and shifted his face as he saw what he was holding up.

"Oh…" Angel said, his face changing back. "It's…"

"Hey guys." If they hadn't quite believed it before, they did after hearing that voice. Angel turned around and walked away a few paces, looking rather annoyed as Spike forced a smile.

"Hi, Andrew."

* * *

**A/N**: And still, no Spangel smoochies! Ha! Have you waited long enough? Are you ready for some sloppy tongue action between these two? I know I am. So why won't my fingers type it? Oh yes, yes, drama… and issues they have to sort out… eh. It'll come soon… Promise!

So, no Andrew is going to be here. Woo hah! He's going to kinda help out somewhere… and that's all I'm sayin' on that! I always liked Andrew – he's just so… loopy. In a good way… sort of. Ya know, except when he was evil. Anyway, hope you guys are still enjoying the story. I'm having a lot of fun writing it. Stay tuned – next installment will be here soon!

**_PS_** – I am having a bit of fun writing **Dense!Angel**. I mean, come on, he was so completely dense about Nina – I figure, when it's Spike who's in love with him, shouldn't he be even denser? Yeah, I think he should. Don't worry – he won't be so dense for too much longer! And then, there can be Spangel smoochies! Yay! Oh, and by-the-by: it just so happens that I wrote the bit about the spring-loaded stakes today, and then I watched the last disc for Buffy Season 3 – the featurettes, to be exact. One of them was on weapons – and in there, what should I see, but SPRING-LOADED STAKES! LOL. I just thought that was rather interesting. You may now continue with your normal lives. Thank you.


	8. Chapter 7: Stand Up

_Why don't you let me be  
Leave me alone  
You start a fire inside  
__That I could never control  
You wanna see a reaction  
Come on and cut me down  
You've gone as far as I'll go  
Now you're crossing the line  
And I am letting you know  
Well here's your reaction  
Stand up  
I have had enough  
Walk away before I finish what you started  
Face to face I will put you in your place  
End this game before I finish what you started  
Face to face everything will change  
You planted the seed  
How my anger has grown  
Got a feeling inside  
__That I can't seem to control  
You wanna see a reaction  
Come on and cut me down  
You've gone as far as I'll go  
Now you're crossing the line  
__And I am letting you know  
Well here's your reaction  
Stand up  
I have had enough  
Walk away before I finish what you started  
Face to face I will put you in your place  
End this game before I finish what you started  
Face to face everything will change  
Insult after insult after insult after insult after insult  
After insult after insult after insult after insult after insult  
Stand up  
I have had enough  
Walk away before I finish what you started  
Face to face I will put you in your place  
End this game before I finish what you started  
Face to face everything will change  
Walk away  
Everything will change  
End this game  
You wanna see a reaction  
You wanna see a reaction  
Stand up_

"_**Stand Up"  
**__**Trapt**_

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
****Stand Up**

Angel perched on the edge of the living room sofa, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded together. He stared straight ahead, his face expressionless. Beside him sat Wood, who was leaning against the worn back cushions. Angel knew he too had a blank mask for a face, but the emotions underneath his careful façade were complex and threatening to break forth. A deep breath from across the room broke the silence that had settled like a theatre's velvet curtain.

Angel's eyes darted to where Faith sat in one of the arm chairs, her posture much the same as his own. She was frowning slightly, her usually bright eyes dim with confusion and a slight mix of anger. Beside her sat Spike. He was somehow sprawled across a metal fold-out chair, looking relaxed and completely at ease. Out of all of them there, Spike seemed the most comfortable with everything that was happening.

"Well," Spike said, breaking Angel's sudden drifting thoughts. "Let's hear it then – tell us a tale, storyteller." Angel looked back to the center on the room, and the young man fidgeting restlessly on another metal fold-out. The man smiled brightly.

"OK then, Spike," he said, his voice still as high pitched and effeminate as ever. "Well, it really started with – "

"Let's get the Cliff Notes version, Andrew," Faith said darkly. "We all know you tend to get a bit long winded." Andrew giggled anxiously before nodding quickly.

"OK, Faith. Well, what happened… Mr. Giles wanted me to come here to… well, just to watch how everyone interacts with the Slayers, and… um… could I have some water?" Andrew looked around hopefully, smiling. He was met with silence. "OK, well, no big. Um, anyway, he just wants me to report back to him on the situation here – "

"What situation?" Wood asked calmly. Angel knew he was very unhappy. Last night Wood and Faith had stayed up late trying to get a hold of Giles, with no result. They were not happy at all about having someone sent with no advance warning. But if Wood was angry, it was nothing compared to the rage that seemed to burn outward from Faith. She saw this as a huge slap in the face, and she was ready to blow.

"Nothing bad," Andrew said hastily. "I told you – with the Academy open now, the Watcher's Council in England just want to keep a tighter watch on everything that goes on. They just want to make sure the girls are getting the best training possible. If there's anything you guys miss, they can tell you and you can fix it." Angel looked down at the floor.

"But they didn't think I should know?" Faith asked. "Spike and Angel were ready to take you apart last night," she said. "Don't the Watchers value your life?" Andrew shifted fretfully. Angel knew he had some serious esteem issues, but now was not the time for them to surface.

"They thought you might… change your methods… if they alerted you," Andrew told her.

"So you were just gonna run around spyin' on us the whole time?" Spike asked. Angel sensed something strange at that point – Andrew actually seemed to relax when speaking with Spike. Angel swallowed back a chuckle – Andrew was, in some way, attracted to Spike.

"Well, I would have come to you sooner, if I had been given the go-ahead," Andrew shrugged slightly. Angel's eyes moved to Spike's face – Spike was sensing what he was also. Andrew had a small crush on the blonde vampire. Angel felt as though his plain blue t-shirt was shrinking while he wore it. A sudden twinge of jealousy washed over him, and he felt his appearance harden. Spike still stared at Andrew, which only fueled Angel's envy.

"How do we know you're even really here on Council business?" he asked suddenly. His brown eyes flashed gold for a second as he watched Andrew's reaction.

"Honestly," Andrew said, his breath becoming very quick and heavy. "I really am here on official orders. I swear!" Angel felt his beast rising up inside him – Angelus wanted to come out and play.

"And we should believe you?" he asked softly, letting the yellow slowly bleed back into his eyes. He stood very slowly and walked to Andrew's chair, then squatted in front of it. "We can't get a hold of Giles, or anyone at the Council for that matter." He felt himself change – felt an unnerving sense of relief as his demonic side shone through. "Tell me why I shouldn't rip your head off – right now."

Andrew sat, petrified, tears beginning to leak down his cheeks as he tried to speak. All that he could do though was to sit and blubber while Angel stared at him menacingly. "I… I…" He kept choking on his words, too afraid to say anything. Angel continued staring at him, knowing he was enjoying this far too much. "I… I really… a-a-am…" Andrew stammered. "I'm h-h-here on… b-business. Please," he begged. Angel suddenly regained his thoughts, pushing Angelus back down and changing his face. He looked at Andrew for a moment more before standing and turning to Spike and Faith.

"He's telling the truth."

"You're sure?" Wood asked, hauling himself off the couch and coming to stand next to Angel. He looked down at Andrew, who still sat crying, although he appeared to be slowly regaining his composure.

"I can't be one hundred percent, but I can usually smell someone who's lying."

"Wish we had Lorne here right now," Spike mused. "Course, if his singin's half as bad as yours is, I'm almost glad Lorne's not around."

"Hey!" Angel growled. Spike smiled deviously. Next to him, Faith stood.

"So, what do we do with him now?"

* * *

"No, no, no." Spike smirked as he watched Wood correcting one of the girls as she attempted to stake Angel. She had the power. She had the speed. She had the ability. She just didn't have –

"Aim – use your senses to visualize his heart. Concentrate, Sidney." Sidney was the typical spoiled little rich girl. Her ripped and faded jeans were bought that way – from some horrible and expensive store that Spike was sure Angel would shop at if given a chance. Her hair was styled and sprayed into place so as not to ruffle even one strand of those raven curls. Her latte-colored skin was flawless. Even her t-shirt looked pressed and expensive.

Sidney took several deep breaths as she flexed and relaxed her grip on the spring-loaded stake. Andrew had a notebook out and had been scribbling hastily for the past fifteen minutes. His pen was still flying. Sidney took one last breath before looking at him, then back at Wood.

"I can't do this with him… doodling," she complained. Andrew's eyes darted up from the notebook and he smiled sheepishly. He turned slightly and continued writing, trying to be quieter.

"Sidney," Wood began. "You can't ask the world to stop when you have to slay a vampire."

"Why not?" she asked. Wood sighed, exasperated.

"Sidney, just… try again." Sidney rolled her eyes and concentrated on Angel's chest. Spike smiled outright.

Angel stood in front of the Slayer, looking bored and almost nervous. She brought the stake up, then down onto his chest. Her hand thumped on his chest as the weapon retracted into itself. She looked at him hopefully. He forced a smirk and glanced at Wood.

"OK Sidney – that's enough," Wood said. She looked dejected but stepped back and handed the plastic weapon to the next girl. Spike sauntered over to take Angel's place.

"Thanks," Angel whispered as they passed. Spike nodded, just enough to let Angel know he had heard him. As he stepped in front of the next girl (the brunette Spike remembered as Marie), he heard someone clear their throat. He looked at Wood, who was now scowling.

"What?" Spike asked.

"Um…" He turned his head to see Andrew smiling a little uneasily. "Do you really think it's best for them to try on Spike now?" Wood still stared at Andrew. "I mean, it's just… well, they were having trouble… you know… with Angel… and, why endanger – "

"There's no danger," Wood told him flatly. "The stakes are plastic. Which means, if the spring doesn't work, it won't kill them should they get impaled by it." Andrew grinned, still nervously, and nodded a bit.

"Yeah, I know, but… I-I was thinking," he half shrugged, "maybe they should have more practice… with Angel, ya know? Just… maybe… they shouldn't have a new target each time."

"Andrew," Spike said slowly. Andrew's gaze fell happily on the blonde vampire. "If you don't like what we're doin', you come over here and do it for us." Andrew's smile faded quickly as he realized what Spike was saying.

"Oh, uh, that…" He fumbled with his notebook and pen as he spoke. "That could… potentially… put me in danger. And I don't… well…"

"You don't think you could take them whackin' you on the chest, ay?" Spike asked, smirking. Andrew nodded guiltily. "Well then, don't criticize." Andrew nodded again, his eyes trained on the next girl to practice her aim. Spike glanced at Angel, who was standing next to Wood. Spike wasn't completely sure, but he thought he saw a spark of jealousy in Angel's eyes whenever he looked at Andrew. The thought captured him – could Angel possibly be jealous of Andrew's attraction? Spike didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to let himself see something that probably wasn't there. But he couldn't help it. The way Angel glared at Andrew seemed to scream it – he was insanely jealous.

"Alright ladies – good job tonight. Go home, get some rest." Spike watched the girls as they walked away, all of them rubbing their shoulders and flexing their hands. The night was over – and he hadn't even noticed it. He saw Angel exiting the training room swiftly, and Spike could detect his annoyance.

"Hey, uh, Spike?" Spike's attention wandered to Andrew, who was standing near him, his notebook clutched tightly to his chest like a little boy on his way home from school.

"Yeah, Andrew?"

"Um, I was just… wondering… could we…" Andrew took a deep breath and steadied himself before continuing. "Could we maybe go… talk?" Spike stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"Talk?" he asked. "About what?"

"Well," Andrew began. "Maybe, about… the training, ya know… or… um… personal lives, if you wanted… or I could tell you about my favorite moments from Doctor Who – "

"Right," Spike cut him off. "Training it is then. Where shall we go?"

"I was thinking, there's this nice looking little Italian place right down the road," Andrew shrugged, trying to sound casual. "We could go there, talk strategy – "

"And what about Faith and Wood?" Spike asked. "They're the ones runnin' this place – they should be the ones you talk to about trainin' strategy. Or even Angel." At the mention of the older vampire's name, Andrew seemed to blush slightly and looked away.

"Oh, I… I don't think Angel likes me very much," Andrew muttered. "I don't… don't wanna push him, ya know?"

"I know, pet," Spike softly, his gaze traveling back to where he had last seen Angel. "Believe me, I know."

"So, we can go?" Andrew asked. Spike pursed his lips then nodded.

"Yeah. Let me change – and shower. And while we're on the subject, you might want to do the same." Spike looked at Andrew seriously. "Just a thought."

About thirty minutes later, Watcher and Vampire walked down the street together. Spike inhaled, taking in the scents around him. He was dressed in loose fitted black jeans, with black boots and a plain white t-shirt under an open button-down royal blue shirt. Andrew was wearing black slacks, a white long-sleeved button shirt, and a brown tweed jacket that Spike was sure had been Giles' at one point. The young man seemed optimistic – excited, even. Spike wasn't sure why, but he didn't care enough to question. He was still trying to figure out why he had been chosen to go on this little excursion.

"It's nice here," Andrew commented. Spike snorted in reply.

"Yeah, for an American city."

"You have a point," Andrew agreed. "England is incredible. I love London."

"London," Spike chuckled. "I wonder if I'd recognize any of it."

"Probably," Andrew told him as he grabbed the door to _Bianco's_ and they walked in.

The restaurant was small – it would seat maybe fifty people if it had to. But it was quiet, and really quite posh inside, in Spike's opinion. He and Andrew took a small booth next to one of the windows. Andrew sipped greedily at the water that was placed in front of him while Spike nursed an imported beer he had never tried before – and probably wouldn't again.

"So," he said, regarding the Watcher in front of him. "Here we are then – entertain us." Andrew looked at him, confused. "What's on your mind?"

"Oh," Andrew said, sounding relieved. "Um… actually, it's not training." Spike nodded.

"This would be one of those personal matters you wanted to talk about?" he asked. Andrew smiled as Spike rolled his eyes. "Figures. Listen, Andrew, I'm not one for the listening and hugging and sharing bit – that's really more of Angel's style."

"But – " Andrew began. "I… Angel wouldn't understand."

"You'd be surprised just how perceptive and understanding that cro-magnum vampire is, mate," Spike told him. "He sees more than most people."

"Except what's right in front of him," Andrew scoffed. Spike frowned.

"What are you on about?" he asked. Andrew blushed.

"He just doesn't see what's really there for him," Andrew stated. Spike lifted his beer to his lips, taking a small swig.

"And what's there that he doesn't see?" Spike asked, intrigued.

"You."

Spike stared, surprised, at Andrew for a moment before looking down at the table. "Have you – "

"No," Andrew told him. "And I won't. Not even if you asked me to." Spike nodded, his eyes still staring at the table's flowery cloth held under a large glass surface.

"And Faith?"

"I haven't said anything to anyone – just you, so far." Spike inhaled deeply, feeling his nerves slipping. He couldn't believe it – he knew Faith saw it. Faith had seen it before he had really seen it. He was sure Wood saw it too. But that man was an enigma, and Spike wasn't about to try and dig under the surface anymore than he had to. They would never be friends – why push it?

"You've only been here a day, and you could tell?"

"Uh, hello – I'm a Watcher," Andrew said flippantly. "I've been trained and taught everything there is to know about vampires and vampire behavior, both souled and unsouled. And, since you and Angel are the only two vampires _ever_ to have souls, I know a lot about you."

"Do you know that I'll rip your throat out ya keep talkin' that loud?" Spike asked quietly, smiling. Andrew shrunk back slightly, his shoulders hunching up.

"Sorry," he said. "But, as I am well versed in vampire behavioral patterns, your response was one of four I would have expected," he said happily. Spike just stared at him.

"You need to get out more," the vampire muttered.

"So, is he, ya know, interested?" Andrew asked. Spike wearily rubbed his eyes.

"I've no idea, mate," Spike told him. "And why are we even talking about this?"

"Because," Andrew stated, "I thought it would be a good idea to bring it into the open. Besides – this could be a real breakthrough for the Watchers – "

"No," Spike said forcefully, causing Andrew to jump. "My love life isn't fodder for the Watchers. It's not gossip for the Slayers. And as of now, it is officially off limits for you to talk about – ever again." Andrew opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it again at Spike's glare.

"I just want to help you out, Spike," Andrew murmured after a few tense moments of silence. Their waiter came by then with Andrew's plate of Fettuccine Alfredo, asked Spike if he was sure he wasn't hungry, then left them again. Andrew dug into his plate, devouring most of his meal before either of them spoke again.

"Alright, Watcher Junior," Spike resigned. "We can talk about bleedin' Angel. But everything – and I mean _everythin'_ – stays off record and out of the books. You don't talk about this with anyone else, or the things I'll do to you will make what the Watcher's Diaries say about me look like children's books, you got it?" Andrew beamed and nodded, swallowing a bite of noodles.

"I will take these conversations to the grave," he vowed.

"Damn right you will," Spike told him.

"So, how long have you… ya know?" Andrew sat up at attention, eager to hear the story. Spike sighed.

"Few weeks – maybe a month," he said.

"What made you realize how you felt?"

"Angel was bein' haunted – these spirits kept tellin' him he killed 'em."

"Like The First?" Andrew asked, captivated. Spike nodded.

"Yeah – just like it, actually. But it was only after Angel. The First would have come after the rest of us. Anyway, I watched him – lyin' in his bed, not doin' anythin' – he was catatonic. I knew then – because I knew I would have done anythin' to bring him out of it. But I couldn't work that kinda mojo."

"Willow," Andrew said. "That's why she left so suddenly. Giles wouldn't tell anyone, and when she got back all she said was that Faith and Wood had needed a powerful Wicca – so she went."

"Thought you were a Watcher," Spike mocked. "Thought you would have figured that out before now." Andrew shook his head, blushing.

"When The Council wants information concealed, no one finds out what it is. Their resources are a lot better than before." Andrew finished the last of his food and pushed the plate to the side, sipping some water to wash it down. "So, tell me what happened – how did Willow bring him back? Were you scared? Did you get to help?"

"Hang on, chap," Spike said. "First off, I'm not givin' details about how he came back. The witch did a spell – simple as that – and yeah, I helped. That's all you get on that." Andrew nodded, frowning slightly. The waiter came back again with the check and cleared the table. Andrew left some money and the two got up, nodding their thanks as they stepped outside. The night had grown a bit chilled, and Andrew pulled the worn jacket around him tightly.

"You will tell him though, right?"

Spike looked over. "Dunno, Andrew. Might not be the best idea."

"Spike, how can admitting your feelings not be a good thing?" Andrew asked. Spike laughed.

"Do you have any idea what you're sayin'?" he barked. Andrew smiled at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I do. Spike, sometimes, you have to stand up for what you want. You have to just put it out there and take a chance that something could go wrong. Because if you don't, you'll never know what might have been."

"You sound like a man who speaks from experience," Spike said softly, looking down at the ground. Andrew snapped out a harsh laugh.

"I am a man with a burden," he said. Spike smiled as he continued. "A man with a dark past." Andrew shook his head. "I know that there are times when you should go for what you want. This is one of those times, Spike. I mean, what if for the rest of eternity, you felt this way for Angel and he felt it too?"

"Please," Spike growled, suddenly feeling more than frustrated. "Angelus would never. Never," he repeated. The two continued walking along in silence until Andrew finally spoke again.

"It could be worth a shot," he said softly.

* * *

**A/N**: My dearest readers, please forgive the lack of posting – It's been crazy in my life for the past few weeks. Work went insane for a few days, and now there is a new acquisition in my life – a boyfriend. Shrugs Wasn't looking, and that's usually when it happens. So, please forgive me as I am just now getting this up. It is the first I have been on a computer in several days. Just know that I love you all so very much and am hoping you stick around for the next chapter.

Well, still no smoochies. But hey, Andrew was being insightful – that's worth something, right? I know this was shorter than usual. But bear with me - I am getting somewhere with all of this, I promise. Hands you all some cookies Keep reading?


End file.
